Waiwai Ola
by casus17
Summary: When Steve goes missing on an FBI undercover mission, its up to Five-0 to find him before it's too late. So much whump. No pairings. Rated for language and general icky business...
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Well, here I am for my first outing in Hawaii 5-0. I've been loving this show ever since it started, I think it's fantastic, and a really good, fun hour. I've been wanting to post on here for ages, but could never write something I really liked. But finally I did! And here it is, hope you like it!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, I'm just playing, and might give them back in much the same form as I borrowed them.

**Warning:** Naughty words. Torture. That kind of thing. No spoilers.

**WAIWAI OLA**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

He could remember the conversation like it had been yesterday.

"_Danny, what else can we do?"_

_Danny had whirled around to glare at his partner. "Oh, I don't know! How about not go on stupid, reckless suicide missions?"_

_Steve had rolled his eyes as if his partner were being over-dramatic. "It's not a suicide mission."_

Danny's loafers pounded on the floor of headquarters, and his breath came quickly. And not just because he had run all the way from his car, in the dark. It felt like ice gripped his insides, and Kono's panicked voice would not leave his head. _You need to get over here, quickly. Something's happened._

This could not be good.

"_Not a suicide mission?" Danny had demanded, leaning down on the taller man's desk. "You saw those photos, of the last person the feds sent in undercover!"_

"_Yeah, and I also saw the photos of those kids," Steve had finally snapped back, leaning down as well, shoving his finger at the distance. "Those kids who had been sold to be beaten, raped and murdered! This is the right thing to do, and you know it! Imagine if one of those kids was Grace!"_

_Something inside Danny had snapped, and before he knew what he was doing the telephone had gone flying to the floor. They had both stared at it for a moment before Williams turned to point a dangerous finger at his partner. "That was low. Dammit, Steve, this is not a good idea, and you know it."_

Half a dozen people surrounded the centre console, and they all looked up as he slammed the door open, slowing to a hurried, panicked walk. One person walked over to him, anxiety written all over his face. But it never reached his eyes.

Danny pointed a finger at the guy, but walked straight past him, ignoring him to avoid punching him. He focused on Chin and Kono instead, who actually looked worried.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded slowly.

"_I know. And I'm sorry. But I have to do this. We have to stop these guys. And if this is our best chance, then I have to take it." Steve had shaken his head. "They need an inside man, someone who looks local, knows the island, and can handle himself. That's me."_

"_This is not the way, though," Danny had pleaded, putting his hands together. "Protocol, and investigating, digging, looking into everything we have until we have something to nail these guys with. That's how we do this, and that's how you avoid not being executed when they find out you're a cop!"_

"_Except the FBI's been doing that for the last two years," Steve had reminded him. "And it hasn't worked so far. Considering their resources outstrip even ours, do you think we have much of a chance. We need to stop these guys yesterday. We need to stop them from hurting any more kids."_

Chin and Kono shared a look, before she looked down, and he looked to the FBI agent that Danny wanted to punch so badly.

"What happened?" Danny demanded again, loudly this time. Again silence. "Someone tell me what the fuck has happened!"

He spun to meet the agent. "Do not tell me you screwed up."

_Danny had sighed, knowing he wasn't going to win this argument. He had leaned down on the desk again, suddenly exhausted. "This is a stupid idea," he had said quietly, shaking his head. "This is a really stupid idea."_

_He had looked up as Steve had given him his best shit-eating grin. "Yeah, but if anyone can pull off stupid, it's me."_

_And he had walked out the door, conversation apparently over. Danny had shaken his head again, trying to beat down the bad feeling growing in his gut._

Two weeks ago, FBI had trumped State Task-force, but more importantly in Danny's eyes, Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett had trumped Detective Daniel Williams. Now, however, the detective was finding that he didn't give a damn about protocol or trumps.

He grabbed FBI Agent Paul Martin by the shirt and pulled him down to look him in the eye. "Please tell me you did not screw over my partner."

"Danny," Chin called, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him away. "This isn't going to help."

Danny pulled himself out of the older man's grip and glared at them all. "No, you're right. What would help is telling me what the hell happened!"

"Commander McGarrett has missed his last two check-ins," Martin told him, straightening his shirt.

Danny nodded slowly. "And?" He hadn't received a panicked call from Kono, telling him to drop whatever he was doing and get over to headquarters, just for missed check-ins.

"And we sent plain clothes to check out his hotel room," Chin sighed. "It's trashed. It's been tossed, and anything electronic was taken."

Danny nodded again, that icy feeling gripping his insides again. "And?"

"And..." Chin and Kono shared a look again, before he continued. "And there's blood. A lot of it."

Danny swore his heart stopped beating. "How much is a lot?"

It was Martin who answered, in his same, monotonous, unsympathetic voice. "A lot. Too much. Too much for... for someone to survive."

The world swayed and Danny had to take a quick breath, barely noticing the way Martin has skipped over the words himself. "What... what are you saying?"

"We're saying..."Martin sighed. "Detective, we're saying it's likely that Commander McGarrett is dead."

Danny looked at the man, heart hammering away in his chest, the anger pounding. And all he could see was the agent's emotionless eyes. He couldn't help it; he broke, and punched the man.

Martin went down, and Danny let the other FBI agents pull him back. "You asshole!" he yelled. "I told you, I told you this was a bad idea!"

One of his agents helped up Martin, who was wiping blood away from his lip. "You knew as well as I did that -."

"No!" Danny snarled, jerking out of the arms holding him. "No, I told you that sending another person in undercover was a bad idea. And now my partner is... is..."

He turned away, running a hand through his hair. "Is it definitely Steve's blood?" he asked Chin and Kono.

"We don't have results back yet. But even if it isn't..." Kono trailed off for a moment before finding her confidence again. "But if it isn't, it means Jones has him."

Danny nodded, trying to focus, trying not to let his worst fears play out in his mind. "I know. But it just means we have to find him. And this time," he added, looking at Martin and the FBI agents. "We'll do it our way. Kono, look into what we know about Jones' organisation so far. We may not know much about him, but we know he's the ringleader, and we know he's from California, which means he doesn't know anything about -."

"Excuse me, detective," Martin interrupted, stepping forward. "This is still an FBI investigation."

"I don't care," Danny snapped. "We tried your idea. It didn't work, and now my partner is missing." He had to be, he had to be missing. "So now we're doing what I suggested from the start. We're finding Steve, and we're doing it my way. You want to help, fine. If not, stay out of my way."

He turned back to Kono. "Jones doesn't know anything about 5-0. So if Steve's cover was blown, it was someone from this island, who's had a run in with us before."

"We've got surveillance shots of everyone McGarrett came into contact with, and we followed most of them," Martin told him quietly, stepping forward again. "We'll ID everyone and see if anyone fits the bill."

Danny nodded his thanks, taking a deep breath. "Chin and I will head to McGarrett's room and see what the crime scene boys have found. Knowing McGarrett, he left a clue behind. We just have to find it."

He paused for a moment, before glancing at Martin, seeing the doubts playing across the faces of the FBI agents. "I know you're thinking it, Martin," Danny muttered, shaking his head. "But I am not. Until I see McGarrett's body, I will not believe that he is dead. He's alive, and all we have to do is find him before Jones' people are through with him."

Martin nodded once. "Okay. We'll do this your way, detective." Danny had the feeling he didn't just mean the investigation. "Because we still have a child smuggler and killer to catch. And finding McGarrett is probably our best bet at stopping these bastards."

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><p>Steve struggled hard against the two men dragging him, but they were both bigger than even him, arms like tree trunks and grips like vices. He pushed his feet into the ground, grunting and pulling, doing anything to try to stop them, but they kept walking fast, half-dragging him along the ground when he refused to cooperate. Even dropping all his weight didn't work; apparently these guys were used to everything. Well practiced. It wasn't a good sign.<p>

"Get your hands off me!" he demanded again, trying to sound tough, even though he knew that all his words were useless. They were only dragging him down here for one reason. "Let go of me, assholes!"

The two goons ignored his demands again, pushing him forward as they moved towards some stairs. He had to step quickly to avoid falling, and even managed to slip out of their grips as they both tried to fit down the narrow staircase.

Steve lunged forward, trying to gain some room, before spinning, facing the two men who had dragged him here. With his hands cuffed behind his back it would be hard, but he would have been confident even then, if not for the dizziness, and the blood running down the side of his face from their earlier... altercation.

Still, he backed up quickly, trying to line them up as they came at him. Then one was closer, reaching forward, and Steve kicked out, with a solid push to the stomach, sending the goon backwards into his partner. Steve chased them as they fell, kicking the top one in the head before running on, back towards the stairs.

Except someone was already there, and Steve slid to a halt as he came face to face with the barrel of a gun. Swearing under his breath, he backed up again, as the owner of the gun walked down the last few steps.

"Church, you're going to regret this," he snapped angrily. Church just glared at him with ice in his blue eyes.

"You're a cop, I already regret it," the man snapped back, stopping at the bottom of the stairs, but never letting his aim drop from between McGarrett's eyes. "What did you think would happen when we found out?"

Frankly he was surprised he was still alive. "I thought you would all be too stupid to realise," he snarled, taking a step forward in anger. Just a single step, before Church cocked his weapon. "And now you're all too stupid to realise it's -."

White flashed behind his eyes and he went down groaning, pain throbbing in a second spot on his head. His vision cleared into boots, slowly, but he could barely think as two sets of hands grabbed his arms again, hauling him to his feet.

He managed to walk on his own somewhat, but the two goons still half-carried him the rest of the way to a room, maybe ten feet by five, a single chair in the centre, stained floors and walls, chains hanging from the ceiling. It didn't look promising as the goons turned him round to face the door, and Church.

The two goons let go, but with the gun pointed at him, Steve didn't move, even as they cut off his shirt and pushed him into the chair, before pulling off his shoes. McGarrett didn't like where this was going. Everyone knew, rule number one of interrogation, no shirt and no shoes made a person uncomfortable. Steve took a few deep breaths, looking down, trying to focus, trying to find a way out.

A slight pressure at the front of his head made him look up. Up, past the gun resting on his forehead, at Church, glaring down at him. "Give me a reason, Lord. Except that wouldn't even be your real name, would it."

"You'll never know," Steve said as calmly as possible while the two goons were cuffing his hands to the chair and chaining his feet to a loop in the floor. He had to be calm. They didn't know much. They didn't know who he was. They only knew he wasn't who he had said he was. Only that he was a cop. Yeah, only. "You might as well have killed me, cause I won't tell you a thing."

Church sneered as the two goons stood up, before handing his gun off to one of them. "We're gonna start real simple, cop. What's your real name?"

Steve shook his head. "I won't tell. I won't tell you -."

Church cut him off with a fist to the face, sending Steve's head flying. He winced as he felt the skin break, but looked back up at the other man with as much steely confidence as he could muster. "Come on Church. You know me. I'm not going to say a -."

Another punch, this one cutting his lip. Steve glared up at Church, who just chuckled. "Now that anger, I believe." His amusement quickly cut off. "But you're still lying to me. And until you tell the truth, we're not going to stop." He grinned. "No one knows where you are. With that mess you made with Kruger, I wouldn't be surprised if they think you're dead. This is just going to continue, until you tell me everything. Who you are, who you work for, what you told them." Church leaned down, so he could look McGarrett straight in the eye. "Now. Who are you?"

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><p><strong>AN:** This story is finished, so I'll try to post every night, but no promises, cause I'm at the stressed end of writing my Honours (Final) Thesis.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Wow guys, thanks for the warm welcome! I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this story. Here's the next chapter!

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

By the time Danny and Chin arrived at McGarrett's hotel room, Agent Martin in tow, it was four o'clock in the morning, and the crime scene team had all but finished with the room. Danny walked in first, ducking under the police tape, pulling on gloves. Chin stopped beside him, and whistled as he took in the room.

"Whatever happened, it looks like McGarrett put up a hell of a fight," Martin told them with some appreciation, nodding as he made his way further into the room.

"He would," Danny snapped at him, still angry with the FBI agent. But he walked further into the room, looking at everything.

The room was well and truly trashed. The bed was ripped, clothes were strewn all over the floor, the TV was on its side, a huge crack in the screen. The lamp was in pieces, there were two holes in the wall, two chairs broken and every piece of electronic equipment was gone, except the broken television and lamp. But more importantly, there was a massive pool of drying blood on the floor at the end of the bed.

Martin had been right: it was too much blood to lose.

Danny ignored it as best he could, looking around for the head crime scene tech. "Cole, what you got?"

The slightly built, older man walked over, letting his camera fall onto his chest. "Not much," Cole answered, shrugging. "Despite the mess, these guys cleaned up after themselves. I've taken samples of the blood from the carpet. There was also blood in the TV screen, and on the bed side table. We're rushing them through now."

"Any indications of who that was?" Martin asked, motioning towards the blood pool.

Cole shook his head. "There were a few hairs, brown and short, but nothing more. Besides..." He paused, giving a sigh before looking at Danny. "Detective, this is a hotel room. Any hairs, fingerprints... they'll pretty much be useless. With so many people coming in here day in, day out, there'll be traces of visitors from months ago. Cleaners don't do that great of a job, especially in a place like this."

Danny nodded. "I know. But see what we can find. If we can link anyone at all to this motel room, it's a start."

Cole nodded and left while the three men surveyed the room. Martin was shaking his head. "Someone had to have heard something."

"No doubt," Chin told him with frustration. "But on this side of town, no one calls the cops. No one wants to get involved."

"Well they're not going to have much choice," Danny decided. "Get HPD to knock on every door, someone had to have seen or heard something."

He walked over towards the cupboard, carefully avoiding the blood-stained carpet. "What do we know about what Steve was doing before he missed his first check-in?"

"Not much," Martin told him. "He was keeping on with the jobs this guy, Church, gave him. Debt collecting from junkies mostly." Yeah, Danny hadn't been too thrilled with that undercover job. "But he was worried. He said he thought Church was getting suspicious, that Church kept mentioning how the cops knew things, right in front of him."

Danny paused, his whole body tensing.

"What?" Chin demanded, turning to look at Martin at the same time as Danny did. "Why weren't we told this?"

"McGarrett asked us not to," Martin told them, meeting their eyes easily. "He said it would only make you worried, and he needed you focused."

"Of course he did," Danny muttered, believing the story. He turned back to the cupboard. "But if his cover was blown, why did he come back here? Why not just head straight to us, or HPD? Why not call us, let us know he was in trouble?"

"Maybe he didn't know," Martin offered. "He only thought they were suspicious. He didn't think they knew. That's why he didn't pull out when I offered it."

"No, McGarrett would have known if they knew," Danny said with confidence. "And he's not an idiot. If he came back here with his cover blown, it was for a -."

He cut off, suddenly seeing the graffiti scratched into the back of the cupboard. He moved closer, opening the door all the way. He gave a small laugh. "Like, I said, if he came back here, it was for a reason."

Chin and Martin moved closer, the FBI agent frowning at the cross scratched into the back wall of the cupboard, and the message underneath. "Lord, help me find Grace? I think it's a stretch, Detective. This just looks like -."

"Wasn't Lord McGarrett's undercover name?" Chin reminded him with a small, relieved smile, even as Danny stepped into the cupboard.

"And, Grace is my daughter, Agent Martin," Danny told him. "This is a message from Steve. For me. In case he got into trouble and needed help."

He grabbed the flashlight from the still doubtful agent, and switched it on, searching through the entire cupboard. It wasn't easy to find, but Danny knew Steve hadn't wanted Jones' men to find this. But there it was, a hole carved into the back corner of the panels holding up the shelf. A hole so tight Danny could barely squeeze out the piece of paper and the flashdrive. He chucked the flashdrive to Chin before he opened the piece of paper.

"What does it say?" Martin asked, looking between the two pieces of evidence. Obviously he had never seen them before. Why would Steve hide evidence from the man?

Danny tried not to study him suspiciously. "Has a name and an address. Keone, 13 Panui Street."

Martin frowned. "Keone? He was working with McGarrett. Driving for him. But he doesn't live on Panui Street, that we know of."

"Could be two different things," Chin suggested, looking at the piece of paper over Danny's shoulder. "This Keone could have some information on McGarrett. And Panui's all business. Maybe this business has something to do with Jones."

"Or maybe it's where Steve was taken." Danny looked up, feeling that anger coming back. "Either way, I say we check it out." And he made for the door.

"Whoa, whoa, hang on Detective," Martin cried out, grabbing him. "Let's think about this."

"Think about what?" Danny demanded, spinning back. "Think about how my partner might be at this address? About what he might be going through, right now, as we speak?"

"No," Martin told him stonily. "About how if McGarrett isn't there, and by raiding it we tip Jones off that we're close, he'll kill McGarrett, close up shop, and fly under the radar for the next six months until he sets up somewhere else, and keeps smuggling in children for his perverted buddies. We cannot move until we know who Jones is, and have enough evidence to send him to hell."

Martin let go, but continued glaring at the hot-headed detective. "Jones, and all his men, they are ruthless, Detective. They don't care about anything except making money and staying out of prison. We need to go about this carefully. We cannot tip off Jones that we're getting close. You wanted to do this your way, remember. With careful investigation. Well, in this case, your way is best, and the way more likely to not get your partner killed."

He looked around to include Chin in his next words. "I also want the two of you to remember something. This is not just about McGarrett. This is also about this bastard smuggling in dozens of children a year, children who are usually found dead. We cannot let Jones get away, just because we were focused on rescuing McGarrett."

He turned back to Danny, holding the detective's gaze again. "And I think your partner would agree."

With that he walked out of the door, not once looking back. Danny took a deep breath, not looking at Chin or the HPD officers who were trying not to be caught watching.

"He's right," Danny said quietly. "Dammit, he's right." He wiped his hair back. "Get HPD to put a plain car on 13 Panui. And they are not to move from their position unless they are replaced. We'll go back to headquarters, see what the flashdrive says. And see if we can find this Keone."

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><p>He couldn't see a thing, and they had cranked up the heat.<p>

At least Steve hoped that was all it was. The air was heavy, he was sweating like crazy, and he didn't feel like he had a fever. No, they were trying to make him as uncomfortable as possible, and he had to admit, closing him up in this dark box of a room, and sticking the heat on 90 or above... it was making him uncomfortable. It certainly didn't help the dizziness from the blow to his head.

He shifted on the chair, before testing the length of the chains holding him in place. He had done it before, and he knew the results – they didn't stretch very far – but he was bored and sore, and he needed to distract himself from the pounding in his head and face, the dizziness, and the thought of the probable concussion he had.

Thinking about his team didn't work. By now they would know he was missing. He had been a little preoccupied to check in with Martin in the last day, so they would be looking for him. He just hoped Danny found the note, and the flashdrive. With that, they could take down Jones, if they could find the bastard. He just hoped Danny could do it. No, he knew Danny could –

The door opening sent a welcome cold breeze his way, and he shivered, even as he winced at the light. A few guys quickly set up two big, construction spotlights, and switched them on so they hit Steve's face just enough to impede his vision. But Steve barely noticed them, glaring at Church instead, as the man walked in carrying Steve's laptop from the hotel room. The other men quickly disappeared, shutting the door behind them, trapping the heat, and the light.

"I have to admit," Church began. "I did not think you would last this long. I thought you would cave under a few punches, for sure."

Steve barely stopped himself from snorting. A few punches? One eye was half closed, and all he could taste in his mouth was blood. A rib or two was cracked, maybe broken, and he was sore all over. A few punches barely covered it.

Church gave him a moment, waiting for a response, then grinned when Steve didn't answer. "Still nothing? So what am I meant to call you?"

"I'm trying to come up with a name that means, 'you're screwed'," Steve spat at him. "But I've got a bit of a headache, brain's not working right."

Church just chuckled. "The moment I met you, I thought you'd be fun. I didn't know how fun." He opened up the laptop, showing Steve the log in page. "And because I think you're fun, I'll give you three tries. Password?"

Steve looked past the laptop, up into Church's face. "Not happening."

Church nodded, like he expected nothing less. "Password."

"Go to hell."

"Last chance," Church warned. "What's the password?"

Steve somehow managed to grin. "Fuck you."

Church snapped the laptop shut, shaking his head, stepping back to knock on the door. "Well, can't say that I didn't ask nicely," he said as the door opened again. Church handed the laptop off to someone and walked back towards Steve, two men dragging a tub of water and ice in behind him.

Steve automatically began to steady his breathing, knowing what was coming. It was going be bad, he knew. But he could handle this. This was basic training for a SEAL. Almost.

Church seemed to sense something as he unchained Steve's handcuffs from the chair, but he didn't stop, didn't pause. Just heaved Steve to his feet and then pushed him forward and down, onto his knees. Steve winced at the thump, but he just kept breathing deeply, ignoring everyone around him.

The chair was moved from behind him, and the tub shoved in front of him. It certainly looked cold. He knew what to expect. Icy needles stabbing his face, and the sensation that the cold was sucking all the oxygen from his lungs. The overwhelming urge to breath.

Church sat down in the chair so he was facing Steve. "One last chance," he offered, as the two men grabbed a hold of a shoulder each. "Just tell us the password."

Steve didn't say a word, and Church sighed, raising a finger. McGarrett grinned, and then he was being pushed down, head first into the ice and water.

It was worse than he had prepared himself for, the cold searing his skin as his head entered the water. He clamped down on the instant urge to breath, just telling himself that he could do this, he had done this in the SEALS, had been prepared for the worst that water could offer. He just stayed calm, refused to struggle, didn't kick or push. He just had to stay calm. They wouldn't keep him under forever. They wouldn't. He had to stay calm, not panic, even if his heart was beating a million miles an hour and his lungs were already crying out for air, emptying slowly of oxygen. He just had to stay –

He was being pulled up and as soon as he was free, he heaved in a lungful of air, giving a small cough, before looking up at Church with the same shit-eating grin he had been using earlier.

Church was looking at him with a suspicious gaze, as if he were only now getting some idea of what he was up against. But he didn't say a word, just raised a finger again. Steve took a deep breath and then it was ice needles and shock and the need for air. Distracted, he needed to keep distracted. Like the distraction of the water slowly turned red with his blood. Like the idea of the looks on their faces when they found out he had stolen everything the FBI needed to nail Jones_ after_ he had blown his cover. Like the way his lungs felt like they were screaming for a breath – _No _– his heart pounding away viciously in his chest – _don't think about that!_ – trying to pump around more and more oxygen when it was getting less and less –

They pulled him out again, and he gasped desperately for air, trying to fill his lungs. They didn't give him enough time, sending him down again, and he felt a small surge of panic through his gut. He shoved it away, knowing he could handle this, handle the cold, handle the torture, he was a SEAL, he could handle anything.

Except his lungs were empty, his face ached, and he so desperately wanted to take a breath. He held on, knowing his body was quivering and denying that it was all he could do not to kick and push and waste more oxygen. He could wait them out. They weren't going to kill him. They weren't.

Then he was being pulled out again, and he took a deep breath as soon as his head was free. Except suddenly he was being pushed down again, as he was taking air in, and it wasn't air, it was water filling his lungs. He couldn't stop the cough, or the second breath that followed, and suddenly he was _drowning_. He kicked, except his feet were still chained to the floor. So he tried thrashing, accepting that he was well and truly panicking, except he was drowning, and they weren't pulling him out, no matter how hard he pushed against them. His lungs were screaming and the world was going black, and they were _killing_ him!

Suddenly he was out of the water and on the ground, and he heaved, eyes closed, coughing, vomiting the water out, feebly trying to replace it with air. And slowly the world came back into colour and sound, and he could hear Church laughing.

"Good to know you are actually human," the man chuckled, even as the two men grabbed McGarrett's arms and hauled him upright once more, in front of the tub. Steve glared at his captor, trying to get his breathing under control, even as panic flittered through the depths of his stomach. Church nodded, still smiling. "At least now we're getting somewhere."

And he raised his finger again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Wow, you guys are truly amazing! I did not expect such a response to this story, it has been insane! Thanks (again) to everyone who's reviewed!

No Steve this chapter, but don't worry, there's plenty more of our favourite SEAL to come!

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

"Tell me you've got something," Danny demanded of the half dozen people gathered around the computers the instant he had opened the doors to see them. They all looked up, but it was Kono who took the lead, pulling back from the crowd of men and walking over to him, shaking her head.

"Nothing from surveillance photos," the rookie told him. "Steve never met anyone who we think he has met before. That these guys saw, anyways," she added, motioning to the men in suits watching them all. "What did you guys find at the hotel room?"

"Hopefully something," Danny told her, striding towards the central console. "Look up this guy, Keone?"

"Jimmy Keone," Martin supplied. "Nineteen. Local kid."

"Nineteen?" Danny demanded, having missed that information before.

"Yeah, Jones recruits young," one of the agents told him. Danny had forgotten his name, and found he didn't really care.

Kono typed quickly on the console while Chin disappeared into his office with the flashdrive. A mug shot of Jimmy Keone appeared on the screen, and Danny shook his head. The kid had to be barely nineteen, and he was working with a gang that smuggled children?

"Done for drug possession, and breaking and entering," Kono read. "This kid doesn't look like he could hurt a fly. Why we looking him up?"

"He was working with Steve," Danny told her, confused as well. This kid, a debt collector?

"I told you, he was McGarrett's driver," Martin reminded them. "He never actually did any of the physical work. Just made the quick getaway at the first sign of cops."

"But obviously Steve thinks Keone can tell us something," Danny suggested. "I mean, why write down his name otherwise?"

Martin nodded. "I agree. But we need to be the ones to find him. Jones might find out if we put an APB on him."

"How?" Kono asked, sharing a look with Danny.

"Well, if McGarrett didn't meet someone he knew, maybe it was someone who knew him," Martin told them uneasily. "Like a mole, in HPD."

"Whoa, what?" Danny snapped, turning to the lead agent. "Not possible."

"Why not?" Martin demanded. "There's been a mole in HPD before."

"I know, you don't have to remind me!" Danny said, pointing at Martin viciously. "He killed my first partner. But one mole does not mean HPD's full of them. Besides, did you tell anyone in HPD that McGarrett was going undercover?"

"Well, no -." Martin said. He obviously had more to say, but Danny cut him off.

"And did anyone from HPD see McGarrett doing his undercover dirty work?"

"Not that we saw, but -."

"Ergo, no one from HPD could have blown Steve's cover!" Danny cried, before turning away, towards Kono. "We need to find this kid. Get HPD to put an APB out for him. But don't say anything about any connection to smuggling, or Steve, or any gang. Tell them he's wanted in connection to... a series of break-ins, in downtown Honolulu. And don't say his name. Just a description. I don't think it'll work, but it's worth a try."

Martin was shaking his head, but before he could say a word, Chin was all but running towards them, surprise on his face, flashdrive in his hands. "McGarrett's done it!"

They all exchanged equally confused looks. "McGarrett's done what?" one of the agents asked.

"Nailed him," Chin told them with a small grin, plugging the flashdrive into the computer. "On this flashdrive is everything the FBI needs to take down Jones and his organisation."

He typed away, and numbered files appeared on the screen. "For example," Chin told them, clicking on one numbered file. "This details the manifesto of a ship from Thailand, which had a cargo hold full of illegal drugs."

He minimised it and then clicked on another file. "And this is the accounting report for the month of July last year, saying that Jones earned a surplus of three thousand dollars after buying and selling American made weapons to foreign countries."

He clicked on a third file. "And this is a report from what looks like one of several teams based overseas, which had a very successful hunting week in December 2009. Thirteen children kidnapped and put on a ship bound for first the Philippines and then for the Big Island."

He stood up straight, seeing that they all understood. "This flashdrive contains the dirty laundry of every aspect of Jones' criminal business for at least the last three years."

"Where did McGarrett get that?" Martin demanded, slightly breathless, and obviously unable to believe his good luck. "And why didn't he give it to me sooner?"

"Maybe this is how his cover got blown?" Danny suggested, feeling slightly sick. "Someone saw him getting these files, or found out he had accessed them. And he didn't get a chance to give it to you before they surprised him at the hotel."

Martin nodded. "Explains why they went to town on his room. Thank God they didn't find this," he muttered, indicating the flashdrive. "Is there anything in there pointing to who Jones is?"

"Not that I could find," Chin told him, shaking his head. "But I only went through a few files. There could be employment records, hell, for all I know, there's a file with a picture telling us exactly who Jones is. But with these financial records at least, we can match earnings and investments with Jones' own accounts, once we find him."

"Once we find him," Martin repeated, rubbing his face. "Then we should get on that. What about this address, 13 Panui Street?"

Chin typed away furiously for a moment and a picture of the address popped up on the screens. "Looks like it's central offices for a business called Eureka Shipping. Looks like it's an Australian company that expanded."

"Any connection to... anything?" Martin demanded.

"Not on the surface," Chin said with some patience. "But I'll do some digging, see what I find."

Danny nodded. "Get Kono to help," he ordered them before turning to Martin. "Your suits should keep looking through the files on that flashdrive," he suggested.

"And us?" Martin asked, his voice the only thing showing his frustration at taking a step back from command.

"We're going to go find Jimmy Keone," he told the man with a small grin. "And ask him why Steve thinks he can help."

* * *

><p>They tried Keone's apartment, and his parents' house, all with no luck. Danny was finding it harder and harder to bite back his frustration. Not that he had really thought Keone would be at either place. But he had to be important. Steve wouldn't have written down his name otherwise.<p>

"One thing I don't get," Danny said to Martin as he slammed the door of the Camaro shut. He had to say something. Their lack of getting anywhere was too much for him to handle silently.

"Just one?" Martin half-joked, looking across at the shorter man. And the glare he sent the agent's way. "Sorry, you're right. No time for jokes."

"Just one that I think you can answer," Danny answered anyway, starting the engine. "How come you weren't tailing Steve, if he thought Church knew?"

"He didn't want us to," Martin replied. "Said so long as it was only suspicion, he didn't want anything jeopardising it."

Danny shook his head in annoyance as he started the engine. "That..." He gave a growl of frustration. "You know what else bugs me? Why didn't he call when he knew his cover was blown? Why leave cryptic messages that don't lead anywhere? Why did he even go back to that hotel room..."

He trailed off, suddenly thinking. Martin looked across at him, noticing the look. "You have an epiphany, Detective?"

"I... Why would Steve want us to find Keone? From everything we know about this kid, he's just some idiot working the low ranks of this organisation. I mean, Steve probably had more access to insider knowledge than Keone did, and he'd only been there two weeks."

"And?" Martin asked, clearly not thinking the same things as Danny.

"And if Keone knows nothing, he's no help to us in bringing Jones down. Unless he saw something. Or heard something, something he wasn't meant to. And being the expendable that he is, it probably would have gotten him killed. So Steve would have tried to protect him. Steve would have taken him to that hotel room, or sent him there, because he couldn't send Keone to the police, cause that would make Keone not trust him, and he'd probably run, and get killed anyway."

Danny put the Camaro into gear and pulled out, heading for the hotel where Steve had been staying for the past two weeks. Martin noticed. "So you think Keone's still hiding out at the hotel?"

"Or near it," Danny told him, nodding. "It makes sense. Well, more sense than us looking for a kid who should know nothing."

Martin slowly nodded his agreement. "Okay. But what makes you think Keone will still be there?"

"Nothing," Danny admitted as he sped round a corner. "But it's the only lead we got so far."

"Well, theory, more than lead," Martin reminded him dryly. "But I'll take theories today."

They arrived at the hotel quickly, pulling up in one of the guest carparks. But Danny didn't get out, just watched the doors of the rooms.

Martin, pausing with his hand on the door, raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't think McGarrett would have hidden him in one of the other rooms."

Danny spared the agent a look before opening the door and stepping out, moving instantly for Steve's room. The yellow police tape still covered the door, but he ignored that, opening it with a little more force than was necessary.

The room was still a mess, but Danny honestly didn't think they would ever get the blood out of the carpet. He still ignored it, realising they still didn't even know who that blood belonged to, and moved further inside, trying to survey everything, trying to miss nothing.

Martin did the same thing, though he did spare a grimace for the blood. "Okay, so if I'm McGarrett, and I have a scared nineteen year old kid hiding in my room from murderous criminals, I put him..."

"As far from the front door as possible," Danny concluded, looking towards the bathroom. "Somewhere with another way out."

They both walked over, though the bathroom wasn't big enough to hold them both. Danny moved quickest, and found himself studying the dirty white and multitude of fingerprints while Martin studied him.

"Okay. We'll stick with the, 'I'm Steve' thing. I hear said murderous criminals coming. I tell scared nineteen year old kid to run, while I hold them off, cause I'm super SEAL and can defuse a bomb with my pinky finger. Kid can't run through the front door though. He had to go..." Danny looked up, to the window just above his head. "He has to go through the window."

"Could he reach?" Martin asked, leaning further into the bathroom. Danny nodded, pointing at the toilet seat.

"If he stood on here. And that looks like fingerprint dust on the window sill." Danny shrugged. "Besides, scared means adrenaline. Adrenaline means you can do anything. Come on, we need to continue this outside."

By now the sun was well and truly up, as Danny and Martin trudged around to the back of the rooms, ignoring the grumpy looks from the manager. They stopped outside the window of Steve's trashed room, and Martin squatted.

"Well someone definitely fell here. Mustn't have been a graceful landing." The FBI agent shook his head. "But it looks like he got up and went this way."

Danny, far more used to the city, just nodded and followed, as Martin took them away from the hotel, towards the homes backing on to them.

"I don't think he would have gone far," Martin speculated, slowing slightly. "And I think he would have tried to avoid people at all costs. But he knew McGarrett still had to find him. Or probably hoped it. So he probably stayed in the area."

They followed the trail to a small, but well-worn path between two high fences. Martin shook his head. "Now he could have gone anywhere."

"No, you're right, he would have stayed close," Danny agreed, moving down the path, to the street at the front of the row of houses. He walked out onto the footpath, and looked up and down. "And he would have avoided people. People mean trouble or cops being called on you."

Martin came to stand beside him, looking as well. "City's that way," he said, pointing to his right. Danny barely heard him though. He was looking directly across the street.

"Okay, now I'm a nineteen year old kid," he said, frowning. "And I have murderous criminals after me. I'm scared, panicked, and the only person who's trying to protect me needs to find me when he takes out the murderous criminals. I'm gonna take the first safe place available to me." Danny nodded at the house across the street. "Like an abandoned, rundown house with no one living in it."

Martin followed his gaze, even as Danny stepped off the footpath and crossed the road at a jog. Martin quickly followed, and they both drew their weapons as they approached the house.

"You take front, I'll take back," Danny suggested quietly. Martin nodded, creeping to the stairs and trying not to make too much noise as he walked up them. Danny didn't see him, running silently to the back of the house.

The house was on a hill, so no stairs here. Danny just opened the door, a little surprised that it was unlocked, and moved inside.

The place was dimly lit, most of the windows boarded up, but there was enough light to just see the laundry he had entered. He quickly scanned it, found no one, and moved towards the hallway, weapon up and ready. Just in case.

The first two rooms were empty, and Danny moved on quickly, every sense heightened, his heart pounding in his chest. Keone had to be here. He had to be.

The third door was to the kitchen, and Danny entered it with only the slightest taps of his feet, heading towards the left. It turned out to be the wrong way.

There was a small noise, feet on tiles, and then he was being pushed forward, losing his balance and falling, as the feet on tiles sped up and ran.

"Martin, kitchen!" Danny yelled, even as he regained his feet somewhat ungracefully and ran after the pusher. He was only three seconds behind him, but it didn't matter.

"Freeze! FBI!"

That was Martin, and as Danny entered the hallway again, he found the agent holding a gun on a small figure, no doubt the one who had pushed him.

Danny didn't bother to raise his weapon. "Jimmy Keone?"

The figure spun, and Danny instantly recognised the young face. The young, terrified, bruised face at the moment. The detective holstered his gun, holding his hands up non-threateningly. "It's okay. We're... uh, friends of Steve Lord's."

The kid's eyes widened. "Are you Danno?"

Danny made a small noise as Martin lowered his weapon as well, though he didn't put his away. "I'm gonna kill him. Yes, I'm Danno."

"So it's true then," Keone muttered, looking at Martin over his shoulder. "Steve's a cop."

"You knew?" Martin demanded, confused.

"Yeah, he..." The kid licked his split lip and looked at Danny. "Church took him, didn't he?"

Danny shared a look with Martin, not sure how to answer, but apparently it was enough for the kid. All the colour drained from his face. "I mean, I figured that had to be it, but... Man, this is all my fault."

"What do you mean?" Danny asked, getting the sneaking suspicion he wasn't going to like the answer.

Especially when Keone refused to meet his gaze, but said to the floor, "Steve, he told them... he told them he was a cop to save my life."

* * *

><p>So, who's excited for the premier tomorrow night?<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** I am so jealous of everyone who lives in America, right now...

On a brighter note, this chapter's a little bit longer than the last few!

Have fun, and thanks again for all the reviews!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Danny took the kid straight into his own office, bypassing the interrogation room and ignoring the glances of the FBI agents mingling around the central computer.

"Take a seat," he told Keone, knowing that making the kid trust him was the only way he was going to get results quickly. And maybe a little guilt. "Do you want a drink?"

Jimmy shook his head, but Danny figured he had been in that house since last night, almost nine hours now. "Kono, can you get Jimmy a coke, please?"

She nodded, and left, leaving just Danny and Keone, who sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Danny took the other. "Can you tell me what happened?"

The kid looked terrified at the very thought. Danny couldn't believe he was nineteen. At the moment he looked about twelve. But he needed answers, and he needed them yesterday.

"Jimmy, we need your help. We need to find Steve." He paused as Kono came back and offered the can to Keone, before sitting on the desk. "We know he was taken by Church, and we need to find him."

"He's probably already dead," Jimmy muttered, looking at the can in his hands. And sounding guilty. "He's a cop. That's what Church does to cops."

They knew; they had the pictures to prove it. "We don't think so, Jimmy," Danny told him. "If he was dead, they would have left him somewhere for us to find. So we would get the message not to interfere."

He shifted on the seat. "But if we don't find him soon, we might be too late." He looked up at Kono, who nodded, and then continued.

"Steve's more than our boss, Jimmy," she told him gently. "He's our friend. He's saved our lives before. Just like he saved yours."

That made him look up, fear and guilt battling it out in his eyes. "I didn't... I didn't ask him to do that."

"And what would have happened if he hadn't?" Kono asked. "They would have killed you, right?" At Keone's nod, she continued. "Steve's one of those people who couldn't let that happen. And now we need your help to stop that from happening to him."

"Jimmy, you're the only one who can help us find him," Danny said, ignoring the screens with a bucket load of information on Jones' organisation. "Please, just tell us what happened last night."

Keone looked at him, biting his lip, before putting the can down with shaking hands, and clasping them in front of him. "O... Okay. Fine." He took a deep breath. "Yesterday afternoon, Church and a few of his goons picked me up off the street near my apartment. Said they needed me for a job. Only when we reached base, they took me down to the basement, and... and tied me up. Started hitting me." He touched his ribs absently. "They thought... they thought I was a snitch. That I was leaking info to the cops. They said the cops had known things. Things they shouldn't have. And they thought it was because of me. They wanted to know what I had told them."

Danny felt his own flash of guilt. They had never considered the possibility of that happening before. "And I'm guessing Steve found out?"

Keone nodded. "I think when I didn't turn up for work, he found out what had happened. He stormed in and started yelling at Church. Saying how I wasn't the snitch. That I had been with him every night, and I hadn't been out of his sight, so how could I be. Church didn't believe him. Said a few too many of our customers had been visited by the cops. And then Steve pulled a gun, and pointed it at Church, right here."

He pointed between his eyes and shivered. "I'd seen Steve look mean before, but never like that. I'd seen him make people pay, just with a look, but that... Church didn't know what to do. But he guessed it. He just said, 'it's you, isn't it.' Steve didn't answer, just told Kruger and Lee to untie me, let me go. And they did. Steve locked them in the room, and we ran. He took me to this place in downtown Honolulu, and went inside while I waited out front. He came back twenty minutes later, and we went to the hotel. He started looking through his drawer, but he must've heard a noise, or something." Jimmy shook his head. "Told me to run, find somewhere to hide and don't come out until he came looking for me. So I did, out the bathroom window, and to the house. And then I waited."

"Until we showed up," Danny finished, before frowning. "One thing though. How'd you know the name Danno?"

Jimmy gave a ghost of a smile. "He talked about you, while we were on the job. And then when we went to the hotel. He kept saying, 'Danno's gonna kill me'."

Danny shook his head. Trust his partner. "And this place Steve went inside." Broke into, but he would leave it at that. "Where is it?"

"Panui Street," Keone told him. "Not sure what number, but it was on Panui Street."

Danny leaned back. He was going to guess it was number thirteen. Judging by Kono's glance, she was thinking the same thing.

"And do you know where they might have taken Steve?" the rookie asked when it became obvious Danny wasn't.

Jimmy shook his head. "I only know where the junkies live," he told them sadly. "Church always said one day I could know more, but..."

"That day never came," Kono supplied.

Jimmy nodded. "Sorry. Wish it did. He saved my life." He looked around the office, and then across the hall, something apparently dawning on him. "Hang on... Does that mean Steve's 5-0?"

"Thanks Jimmy," Danny told him, not answering. "We'll make sure you've got protection until we bring these guys down." And he stood up and walked out the door, Kono not far behind.

"Did he know where McGarrett is?" Martin asked as they walked to the computers. Danny shook his head.

"No, but he did tell us that McGarrett broke into a building on Panui Street _after_ his cover was blown. My guess is that's where the flashdrive is from."

"Why didn't he wait til he'd come in?" Martin asked, frowning.

"He probably didn't want to wait. He told them he was a cop to save Jimmy's life. If he escaped, they would have wiped everything. So he got copies before he went to the hotel room. I also think he must have lost his phone somewhere, because he went back to the hotel room to find his emergency. At least, Jimmy remembers him looking through the top drawer, where he kept it."

"Okay," Martin accepted. "Where do you want to go from here, Detective?"

"I want to hear what we've got on Eureka Shipping," Danny told him. Chin looked up and nodded.

"Eureka Shipping," he repeated, putting the company details up on screen. "Began in Brisbane, Australia in 2001, shipping just about anything you can imagine. It's owned by a man named Jordan Brown. Only trouble is, Jordan Brown doesn't exist."

"Bit hard to own a company if you don't exist," Danny guessed, leaning down on the computer. "So who really owns it?"

"Here's the tricky bit. Jordan Brown somehow manages to own several other businesses in Australia and South East Asia. Hotels, mining holds, pharmaceuticals, you name it, he seems to have his hand in everything. There is a business he's only in charge of though, he doesn't own it. That's Ripley Pharmaceuticals, a small research and development firm based out of New Zealand. That company is owned by an American business called the Ingham Incorporation."

He swiped on the computer and the web page of Ingham Incorporation appeared on the screen. Danny was starting to lose focus though. "And these people are..."

"Nothing really. A small business," Chin continued. "At least, compared to the company who owns them." A new website appeared on screen. "Meet Orion. CEO and owner, one Peter Jones."

"Jones?" Martin demanded, suddenly standing upright as the picture of a middle-aged man, glasses and tie, appeared on the screen. "As in, our Jones?"

"Maybe," Chin allowed. "Only one problem. He doesn't have a home in Hawaii. As far as I can tell, he's never set foot in Hawaii. So how does he run a criminal organisation on an island he's never visited before?"

That left a heavy silence. Martin was shaking his head. "Are we certain he's never been here?"

"From what I can find, he has never used a commercial flight or ship to get here. But he does have stakes in shipping companies, so maybe he came here under the radar."

Martin rubbed his face, before shaking his head. "At the least, can we tie Eureka Shipping to this company, Orion?"

Chin nodded, and his answer was backed up by the agents in the room. One of them added, "Eureka Shipping docks at most ports in South East Asia and the Pacific between Australia and here. And whoever runs the dirty business keeps good accounts of exactly what is on each ship, how much they paid for it, and how much they sold for it. And Eureka Shipping appears to be owned by Orion."

Martin nodded. "Okay then. We'll get our New York office to look into Orion, and Peter Jones. As for us, we need to find out how he might have got onto this island. We need to dig deeper into every company Orion owns, and every name mentioned in the files McGarrett got from Eureka's computers. Somewhere in there is a clue to where they're holding him. An address, a name, a freaking x marks the spot telling us where he is. We find it, we find him, and we can take Jones down."

* * *

><p>The hole was beginning to smell.<p>

Okay, so it was Steve stinking up the place, with his sweat and blood. And if he concentrated on something else, he could ignore it. Somewhat. But every now and then, he would catch a good whiff of it, and he would want to vomit. But it was hard to focus on anything when he was hurting, exhausted, concussed and dehydrated.

But Church didn't seem to care about anything except killing him slowly; not about the sweat dripping down his own face, not about the smell, not about the fact that his knuckles were grazed and red from punching. Steve was back in the chair, and the water had gone, but the criminal had remained. Steve didn't even want to know how long they had been at it now, could remember bits and pieces – snapping fingers, more punches, something hot – but his concussion was starting to come into full effect. He was dizzy, nauseas, and he couldn't focus. Those repetitive questions just kept echoing about his head, Church's voice fading in and out. Maybe he could just go to –

A stinging on his cheek jolted him awake, and he jerked upright, pulling on the chains holding him down, wincing as a broken finger hit the chair. He tried to focus on Church, tried to glare at him, but two faces were swimming in his vision, and it made him want to hurl. He looked away, blinking, closing his eyes.

"Cop, do not pass out on me," Church ordered. Steve barely heard him, what with the second slap ringing in his ears. His vision settled slightly though, and he managed to look up.

"'m not a cop," he told the man, grinning.

"Oh, you're going to try to deny it, now?" Church demanded with a raised eyebrow. "Or are you telling me you work for the FBI, that Martin decided to get another of his agents killed?"

Steve just kept grinning up at him. "Guess that's another thing you'll never know. Don't know my name, my job, who I work for, my password, where the kid is... Guess you know jack shit, huh?"

He expected to get hit again for that, but Church just stared down at him with anger and hate on his face. Hate, that was a new one.

"Guess I'll have to change that," the man snarled, before he turned and left the room. Steve began to get a bad feeling, especially when the two men left inside began to grin.

Church returned in five minutes, a small black object in his hand. Steve recognised it instantly, had become better acquainted with the devices only months ago. It had hurt then, and he guessed it was going to hurt worse this time. He suddenly found himself wishing Danny would come to his rescue, right now.

The trepidation must have shown on his face, cause Church gave a chuckle, holding the device up. "Thought you might recognise this. Oh don't worry, it's not going to kill you." He pressed the button on the taser and the electricity snapped between the two prongs. "It hasn't even got enough charge to make you pass out." The man walked closer, and on instinct, Steve leaned back, tried to get as far away as he could. "No, this... this is just going to hurt like hell."

The man moved like a snake, hand plunging and then all Steve knew was white hot pain, spreading out from his thigh, sending the muscles into overdrive, teeth clenching. It went on and on, and he could feel his vision darkening, but everything was just pain.

And then it stopped, and his body tried to collapse, as far as it could while he was chained to a chair. His leg shook and he sucked in air, ready to vomit. Slowly his vision cleared, and he looked up, still panting, at a smirking Church.

"I got this toy just for someone like you," the man told him, leaning down over him. "It's custom built, specially made just for this purpose. I'm not allowed to kill you, not yet. Jones wants to know what you know first. Which means I'm going to keep you alive for as long as it takes. Until you tell me exactly what I want to know."

White pain again, this time in his shoulder, radiating out until it had consumed his entire body. His limbs were rigid, and he could feel the electricity just running through his body, making him burn and ache.

Church stopped again, and this time Steve did vomit, barely noticing it hit his feet through watery eyes. He heaved and coughed, body exhausted, shoulder still burning.

"You'll never... know what I told," he managed to pant out, looking up at his torturer. "I'll never tell you my name." He took a deep breath, sat up straight. "I will tell you this... My people are coming for me. They will find me. And when they do, I'm gonna take that taser and -."

Pain cut him off and he wanted to scream, his gut seizing as Church pressed the taser in hard. As quick as it was there, it was gone, and Steve gave a small groan as he leaned forward. But he still managed to laugh, even as he felt himself crying.

"Last resorts, Church? Can't hit me into submission, can't drown me. So now you're gonna fry me? You better hope Jones' is taking his sweet, sweet time, because you're gonna be here for a while."

Church leaned back, hate growing on his face. "You better hope he's taking his time," the man snarled. "I have to keep you alive until he gets here. But when he does... I might just tell him you didn't tell squat. And then I'll be allowed to kill you. And I'm gonna rip you to pieces so slowly you'll beg me to kill you."

And he dug the taser into Steve's thigh again, just below the first spot. Steve felt his head throw back, his body tingling and aching and burning. And this time it just kept going, and going, and he felt the white turning into black, but a stunning black, vivid and bright and he wanted to yell out but his teeth were cracking against each other and he couldn't see or hear or smell or feel anything except burning and whimpering and a distant voice demanding to know what he was. And if he could think, he would know why he couldn't say that but the burn was everything.

The pain lessened and he vomited again, dry retching when nothing else came out. The smell in the room was worse, and he felt tired, out of it, ready to fall unconscious, desperate to escape the pain.

Something hard hit his face, bringing him round enough to look into Church's demanding face. "What are you?"

Steve didn't bother to answer, and didn't bother to stop the cry of pain that managed to escape before his teeth cracked shut again. White hot pain, turning into blackness and then a lingering ache, and Church was slapping him into awareness again. "What are you!"

McGarrett shook his head stubbornly, quickly, body demanding he cave, and the taser hit him again, the pain never ending, even when the whiteness was replaced by Church. "What are you? Just tell me, and this will end. I'll stop and leave you in peace."

Another head shake, another eon of agony, and Steve was beginning to doubt he could hold on much longer. Another question, a denial and burning, fire all through the inside of his body, and he just needed it to stop, but he couldn't give in. But the pain went on and on, over and over, until he was sure his whole world was burning inside his very veins. He couldn't...

"What are you!" Church demanded, hitting him twice this time, getting frustrated. But Steve could feel his resolve wavering against the onslaught of electricity. Surely this one answer wouldn't...

"Tell me!" Another hit, another age of white, and Steve slumped forward, close to unconsciousness, crying and unable to stop it, the pain still there, echoes of it all through his body. Church grabbed his hair and hauled him upright, looking him in the eyes. "Just tell me what you are, and I'll leave you alone. What does it matter what you are? We already know you're not a criminal. Cop, fed, it's all the same. Just tell me."

Silence filled the room, and then Church let his hair go. Steve slumped, eyeing the hand with the taser. "I'm not stopping," the criminal told him. "Tell me what you are, or I won't leave you alone, ever. Just me, you and this taser." Again silence. "Fine."

And the taser descended.

Steve felt the moment, the moment of absolute blind panic, as the world slowed down and reduced to just that hand holding the taser. His breath caught, his gut shifted and he knew in that moment that he couldn't take much more. Not at that moment. Church had been at him for hours, he needed a break, a chance to regroup, and that one little answer...

"Navy!"

The words had left his mouth before he had even really decided. But the hand with the taser stopped, and Steve swallowed, still panting, angry, guilty, annoyed.

"What?" Church asked, glee in his voice. Steve ignored it.

"I'm a Navy SEAL." He shook his head, wishing he could get his hands on that taser.

Church put the hand down and stood up straight, patting him on the cheek. "Good boy. Now see, was that so hard?"

Steve would have glared at him, but he lacked the energy to even take deep breaths. It didn't matter, because Church was leaning over him. "Now. Next question. This time maybe you'll answer a little quicker."

Steve bucked in his chair as he realised the man wasn't leaving, and the taser was coming at him once again. He pulled and struggled, but the prongs hit him and all he saw was white, pain burning his veins and muscles and will. The white darkened, and he begged himself to pass out. Something answered his wish, because the pain wasn't leaving, and the darkness was getting blacker.

And then all it was, was blackness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Thanks again to all those people who are reviewing - you are officially giving me an inflated ego!

This chapter's a little shorter, and there's only a little bit of Steve, but we can't be whumping him all the time, now... can I?

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

"Bad news."

Danny looked up as Martin walked out of Chin's office, hanging up on whoever he had been talking to on the phone. It was just the two of them; he had sent Chin and Kono for food, while Martin's agents were checking out all shipping ports on the islands.

"I don't want to hear bad news," he warned. Martin just shrugged.

"My guy in New York just went through Peter Jones' whole life. And according to all official records, the worst thing the man has ever done is not pay a speeding fine on time."

"What about unofficial records?" Danny demanded, not liking this at all. "Finances, that sort of thing."

"Nothing," Martin told him, shaking his head. "None of the payments made to the Jones from Eureka Shipping matches Peter Jones. Peter Jones has also got some good alibis for the times when we thought our Jones was on the island. Conferences, meetings with presidents, that kind of thing."

"They talked to him?" Danny demanded, standing up straight, getting angry and completely ignoring the whole alibi business. "What if they just didn't find -."

"They didn't talk to him," Martin interrupted. And then paused, though he obviously had more to say.

"But?" Danny asked when the agent didn't continue.

"But they want to."

There was a moment of tight silence in the air, and then Danny turned away, shaking his head. "No. Bad move. You said it yourself, that's going to get Steve killed."

"Only if Peter Jones is our Jones," Martin reminded him. "And there's nothing to say that he is."

"What if you're wrong?" Danny asked him, gut turning over in his stomach. "What if Peter Jones is our child smuggling, drug trafficking son of a bitch, and you tip him off that we're close?"

"If he is..." Martin began, before sighing and getting that steely look in his eyes. The same one he had had two weeks ago when he had proposed his stupid plan to McGarrett. "Detective, this is not just about your partner. This is about catching that child smuggling, drug trafficking son of a bitch and putting him away so he can't get another kid killed!"

"At the cost of Steve's life?" Danny demanded, though he already knew the answer.

"I don't like it anymore than you," Martin told him without hesitation. "Williams, I've been on this case two years now. It's taken me from kids dying, to paedophile rings, to a man no one knew anything about, to a name, and now maybe to a face. It's cost me three agents and my marriage. Because I looked at those photos of those dead kids, the same way your partner did, and knew that I had to do everything in my power to stop these children from being murdered and sold like animals. We have a chance to stop that!"

Martin sighed again, and leaned on the computer. "And I'm sorry. I liked McGarrett. And it's because of him that now I might be able to stop Jones once and for all. He's given us the breakthrough we needed to put crimes to the name, and a name to a face. And for that, I'll be forever grateful. But the fact that he _might_ be killed if we do this is not worth the lives of the dozens of kids that will be murdered if we do nothing. And you know that."

Danny licked his lips, unable to respond, not even to warn Martin to stop refering to Steve in the past tense. He did know what the man was saying though, and that's what had him speechless, like he had been kicked in the gut. He looked away, pushing his hair back and taking a deep breath. And he nodded. Just nodded.

But Martin understood, and grabbed his phone out again, heading back to Chin's office to make the call. The call that could kill Steve. The call Danny had agreed to make.

He really hoped he wouldn't be responsible for the death of his partner and best friend.

"You won't be."

Kono's voice made him jump, and he spun around, realising he had spoken that last thought out loud. "You heard all that?"

The rookie nodded, entering the room and glancing across at her cousin's office, being unnaturally quiet. "Yeah, I did. And you're making the right call."

"Am I?"

She looked up at him. "Okay, I'll put this another way. You're making the call Steve would want you to make. We have to take these guys down. But we're not going to let Steve be their last victim."

Danny nodded and leaned back against the console. "Where's Chin?"

"Here," the man answered before Kono could say a word. "I just got off the phone with HPD. They have forensics back."

"And?" Martin demanded, this time before Danny could speak, as he exited Chin's office.

"And Steve wasn't killed at the hotel room."

Danny heaved a huge sigh of relief before he knew what he was doing. "Thank God."

"But they did find his blood," Chin told them all. "In the TV screen. Looks like it was Steve that was used to break it. But it's only trace amounts, so they think he just knocked his head, or something."

"So who was the pool of blood?" Martin asked.

"A man named Victor Kruger," Chin told them with a smile. "And want to hear the good news? They found his body this morning, in a dumpster in Pearl City. HPD didn't know it was related to our case, so they didn't think to let us know. He was here on a holiday from Australia."

"You're kidding me?" Martin sounded surprised.

"Nope. I arranged for the ME to meet with us in half an hour. Not Max."

"Good," Danny muttered, feeling some sort of relief. They had a lead, and they knew for sure that, at the least, Steve had left that hotel room alive. "Well Martin. Let's go find out what Victor Kruger can tell us."

* * *

><p>The ME turned out to be a dour looking old man with a perpetually annoyed scowl on his face. But when he spoke, Danny was surprised to find him cheerful. He wasn't sure how, when the man worked with dead bodies all day. But then again, he didn't think he had ever met a normal medical examiner.<p>

"You must be Detective Williams," the man greeted them. "I've heard plenty about you. I'm Tobias Davidson."

"Agent Paul Martin," the fed introduced himself, looking down at Kruger's body. "What can you tell us?"

"Straight to business then." Davidson pulled on white gloves and turned to the body. "Victor Kruger, found dead in a dumpster at six am this morning. Killed probably three hours before that. Cause of death, massive blood loss from three stab wounds. One to his leg, two to his chest. Also had a fractured wrist and a broken hand. Elbow broken, shoulder dislocated, and signs of a beating. None of which had time to heal, so it's likely they occurred moments before or after his death."

"I'm going to go with before," Danny told him, remembering the hotel room. It was hard to believe Steve had done all that. One day he wanted to really see the man in action. "Have you got any test results back?"

"Not all of them," Davidson told them. "But I do have some things to tell you." He lifted up Kruger's hand and indicated the knuckles. "I don't know how much you know about this man, but I've been told he was a gang member, or something, which would fit a lot of what I found. For instance, I would say he was an enforcer of some kind, because his knuckles and hands have been broken several times."

Which fit with what Danny knew, too. Davidson nodded and turned the hand over, indicating the nails. "I found a strange substance under his fingernails. I found coke."

Danny shared a confused look with Martin. "As in... the drink or the drug?"

Davidson shook his head and dropped the hand. "Neither. It's a form of fuel. Naturally it is made from coal, but it is also man-made. It's used a lot in ore reduction in blast furnaces."

"So he... was in a factory lately?" Martin asked, obviously still confused. Danny was glad he wasn't the only one.

Davidson nodded. "That is my assumption. A factory dealing in creating alloys, reducing iron, that sort of thing. But taking into consideration the traces of iron, chromium, nickel and molybdenum in his lungs, I'm going to go with steel factory."

"A steel factory?" Danny demanded. "I didn't even know there was a steel factory in Hawaii."

"Just the one I'm aware of," Davidson told him. "One just opened. Orion Steel."

"Orion..." Danny repeated, glancing at Martin. "Well, wonder who owns that. You think that's where he's keeping Steve?"

"I believe Commander McGarrett was the one to kill this man," Davidson reminded him. "So he cannot tell me where Commander McGarrett went after that."

Danny resisted the urge to tell him he hadn't been asking him. "Martin?"

The FBI agent shrugged. "Orion openly owns twenty-three businesses on this island, but this one wasn't on the flashdrive. Maybe because it just opened. And Jones' men own more. McGarrett could be in any one of them. Or none of them." He sighed, shaking his head. "Thanks, doc."

He turned and left, and Danny nodded his own thanks before following. "No need to sound so pessimistic," he muttered as he caught up to Martin.

Martin shook his head. "I'm facing facts, Williams. We have men sitting on every possible place we identified from the flashdrive. And none of them have seen McGarrett, or Church. If we don't find him soon, he will be killed. If he isn't dead already. But we'll get someone on the steel factory."

* * *

><p>When Steve woke, he really wished he hadn't.<p>

His entire body ached, a deep throbbing ache, centred around his thigh, his shoulder and his stomach. His head alternated between pounding and dizziness. His mouth was completely dry, his lips cracked, where they weren't split. His wrists and ankles were rubbed raw, and bleeding, dripping onto his broken fingers and his toes. He had no clue how long he had been down here, in the heat and the smell, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. All he knew was that the room seemed hotter, and all he wanted was some water. Or maybe some more sleep. Definitely a rescue. _Danny, any time now..._

The noise came again, the same one that had woken him up. A small creak and then loud bangs, machinery, incessant noise, too far away to be on the same level as him, but in the same building, definitely. Which meant it was day time.

But which day?

The door to his cell closed again, and he heard Church chuckle. "I know you're awake, McGarrett."

There was something about that sentence. Steve tried desperately to figure out what it was, but thinking, reasoning, it hurt his head. Still, he knew it was important.

"McGarrett," Church sing-songed. And then it hit him.

He jerked upright, heart pounding, opening his eyes as far as he could to look up at his captor with dread.

Church just laughed again. "That's right, Mr Navy SEAL. I know who you are."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Uh oh... Just wanted to mention that I'm pretty sure there's not actually any steel factories on Oahu, and none that Google could tell me about, but meh, my world, my places, right


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Sorry for skipping out on you guys last night, time ran out on me, really fast... couldn't catch the bugger...

Anyways, here's the next chapter, it's a bit smaller than usual too, though I think most of the last chapters are pretty short. That being said, we're over halfway there! Sad!

And thanks again to everyone who's reviewed, I think this is the most reviews I've ever gotten in so few chapters, so you guys are pretty amazing :D

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

Church just laughed again. "That's right, Mr Navy SEAL. I know who you are."

Steve shook his head, unable to believe him. But the man had called him McGarrett. "How?" He hadn't told. He hadn't.

"It's okay, you can keep your pride intact," Church told him, stepping back, still grinning. "You didn't tell us anything besides the fact that you're a Navy SEAL." He gave a shrug. "Of course, then we asked around. And one of the local boys remembered something about the head of 5-0. About him being a Navy SEAL. So we looked you up. And there you were."

He gave another laugh. "I could not believe it. I'd had the pleasure of the company of the head of Hawaii's finest task force, and I didn't even know. Nice to meet you, really."

Steve jerked on the chains again, desperate to get free and show Church just how nice he could be.

The man didn't seem to notice. "I should have guessed something like this. Of course Martin went straight to the best on this goddamn island. And you..." The man laughed. "No wonder I didn't get anything. I'd been worrying about my pride, that I was losing my touch! But no. A Navy SEAL, Naval Intelligence, and 5-0. Martin chose well." He walked over to Steve and leaned down, smiling coldly. "I bet you told Martin everything."

"You have no idea," Steve croaked before he could help himself. "As soon as your boss lands, he's toast. You're all toast. You might as well give up now, while you still can. Martin, he knows everything. Who Jones is, what he looks like... It's over Church. You're a dead man."

Church laughed. "Sure thing, McGarrett. Except you're lying. You don't know a single thing about Jones. But you will. You'll meet him. As soon as I wring everything you know out of you. We're just gonna have to step it up. Get him out of the chair."

The two goons standing on either side of the door moved forward, but Steve just kept glaring at Church, even as the man stepped back. But he saw. He saw the gun sticking out of the taller goon's pants.

They thought he was spent, broken, unsteady, and so they didn't even bother holding onto him that hard while they unchained him from the floor and from the chair. And he decided to make them pay for it.

He stood up fast, before they could even begin to haul him out of the chair. Moving fast, he crushed the nose of the smaller guard with an elbow, before grabbing the taller, and spinning him, grabbing the gun with the hand without broken fingers and aimed for Church.

The look of absolute shock and anger on the man's face was worth it, even though Steve missed where he had been aiming for. Still, Church went down with a yelp, clutching his shoulder.

By then the taller man had recovered from his surprise, and pushed McGarrett's hands away, elbowing the SEAL in the gut, hard, right where the taser had been pressed.

Steve grunted, doubling over, and the guard moved forward, out of reach, spinning, kicking out and knocking the gun out of the SEAL's hand. Steve made a noise in the back of his throat, but decided to get even. He rushed forward, closing the distance quickly, blocking the punch aimed his way and lashing out with his own right hook.

The impact hurt his wrist, but the man went down, and Steve took him out with a knee to the face, before turning to face the smaller goon, who looked angry about the blood running from his broken nose. And he was fast.

Steve tried not to go down as his ribs were hit, just ducked and tried his own left palm to the face, bracing for the pain of hitting with broken fingers, and hoping he was right. He was: the man evaded to the right, but McGarrett had been expecting that, and sent a quick, hard jab under the man's arms with as much power as he could muster. The man doubled over, but Steve just grabbed his head and snapped his neck.

He quickly squashed the remorse at killing one of the men who had helped torture him, and turned for the door, knowing he had to keep move now or pass out. The door opened for him, and he shivered in the fresh air that hit him, taking a deep breath of it. He ran out, and for the stairs he knew were out there, knew he was minutes from freedom, minutes from passing out, and there was something moving in the corner of his eye -

Suddenly he was lying on the floor, and the world was at a tilt. His head pounded, like it had been the whole time, but different as well. Sharper. Newer. That was odd. He couldn't figure out why, or what had happened. He just lay there, gasping for breath, feeling something warm trickling into one eye.

Boots stopped by his head, and he recognised them instantly. He rolled over, and looked up into Church's angry eyes. At the gun in his hand. At the second person standing behind him, all of it blurry, unfocused.

"You son of a bitch," Church spat, before kicking him hard in the gut. Steve grunted, curling in on himself, though not fast enough to protect himself from a second kick. "This was -." Another kick. "My favourite." Kick. "Jacket!"

More feet arrived, and then suddenly he was being hauled upright, making him groan as the world spun, and his chest protested. He couldn't get his legs underneath him. Church didn't seem to care as he looked Steve in the eye. "You're going to pay for that, McGarrett," he warned, ice in his eyes. "You're going to regret ever even thinking about doing that." He turned to the men holding him up. "Take him back. String him up."

* * *

><p>It was getting dark by the time Danny and Martin arrived back at headquarters. Which meant Steve had been missing for over fifteen hours. What had happened to him in over fifteen hours?<p>

Danny glanced at the setting sun, remembering watching it the night before as he had driven home, having been told to get some sleep before he passed out. Well, he had gone home, and gone to bed, and in the meantime, he hadn't been there to watch his partner's back.

He shook his head, and followed Martin into the room. He was going to find Steve. Whatever it took, he wouldn't lose another partner to this god-forsaken island.

Martin's agents all looked up as Danny and their boss entered the room. The detective frowned as he looked around. "Where's Chin and Kono?"

"They went to speak to Keone at the hospital," one of them answered. "See if he remembered anything since you spoke to him earlier."

Martin nodded, but Danny suddenly felt awkward. And annoyed that these suits made him feel awkward in his own workplace.

"Did New York speak to Jones?" Martin asked, getting straight down to business.

"They brought him in," the same agent answered. "And he was adamant that he had never been involved in any of the crimes they accused him of. Said he had children of his own, and he wouldn't hurt other people's kids." The man shook his head. "And they said when they showed him the files of Eureka Shipping and everything from McGarrett's flashdrive, he seemed shocked."

"What, he didn't know he owned that company?" Danny demanded sarcastically. It landed on deaf ears.

"No, he knew. But half the earnings from it, he's never seen before. He gave them access to his reports, and they don't match. His reports have been doctored."

"Maybe by him?" Danny suggested.

The agent shook his head. "New York doesn't think so. But we'll have the chance to find out. New York has organised a video conference. We were just waiting for you to get back."

Danny perked up at that. "What, a video conference with Jones?" They would be able to find out for sure if this man was their scumbag.

"Yes," agent number 2 told him. "We're ready to go when you are."

Martin looked at Danny before nodding, and they both moved in front of the computer screens, ready to interrogate Peter Jones from nearly 5000 miles away.

The screens flickered, and a video of a man appeared on them. A disgruntled looking man in his late forties, with grey hair and sharp eyes hidden behind thin-rimmed glasses. He was clean-shaven, hair short, tie and shirt buttoned right to the top. He looked professional, businesslike, and, Danny had to admit, nothing like the type of man who would kidnap children from foreign countries and sell them on the black market.

"Mr Jones, thank you for agreeing to meet with us," Martin greeted, taking the lead. "I'm Agent Paul Martin, and this is Detective Danny Williams, of the 5-0 taskforce here in Hawaii. We just have a few questions for you."

"If these questions are anything like the ones your fellow agents have been asking me, I can tell you, this will be a short meeting," Jones snapped, glancing off to the side. Probably at said fellow agents. "This must be a mistake. My company is not involved in anything such as... this."

The man couldn't even say it. Danny eyed him with scrutiny, studying him.

"No mistake, Mr Jones," Martin answered. "Sections of your company are involved in child, weapons and drug smuggling. We have the documented evidence, financial reports, statements from employees, which was provided to us by an undercover agent."

"You mean these files your agents showed me? I've never seen them before! And trust me, I see every file that comes across my desk!"

"Well, obviously these files never came across your desk," Danny interrupted, earning himself a glare from both Jones and Martin. "Who do you get the reports from?"

"Several people," Jones answered secretively. "Each branch of my company has its own CO, who provides me with detailed reports on his or her branch."

"So, who would provide you with the reports from Hawaii?" Martin asked. "Who's your CO here?"

"I am telling you, you have this wrong!" Jones snapped, leaning forward. "Nothing happens in my company without my knowledge. I trust my people. You have made a mistake. Your undercover agent is obviously an idiot who can't do his job! My company is not involved in this... Detective, do not walk away... Detective!"

Danny had had enough. He knew now that Jones wasn't involved. Not this Jones. But the man would help them, whether he liked it or not. He spun around and stormed to Steve's office, grabbing the file that had started this all. He walked back, grabbing pictures out as he went.

"This," he snapped, shoving the first picture of a murdered child in front of the camera. "Is what some sick person in your company is doing!"

He grabbed another photo, and showed Jones, and then another, ignoring the man's growing paleness. "These children have been kidnapped from all over the world, brought to America, and then sold to paedophiles, prostitution rings, and into slavery. These kids are just the ones we have found, dead. Murdered, in horrible ways. These agents said you have kids, Mr Jones. Imagine if this was them!"

He dropped the photos and leaned down, glaring into the other man's now-white face. "The undercover agent who got us the information that led us to you? He's a decorated Navy SEAL, formerly a part of Naval Intelligence, head of 5-0 here in Hawaii, and my partner. Now, he is not a father, but he went undercover because he couldn't bear the thought of this happening to someone else's kids. Kids like mine, and yours!" Danny was angry now, shouting. "He also got himself caught, trying to stop someone else's kid from being tortured and shot in the head! He got himself caught, bringing us this information. Now, if he can do all that, you, in your cosy office in New York, can give us one single name! Who the fuck runs your Hawaii branch?"

There was a moment of tense silence, as the agents in the room stared at him with surprise and a bit of admiration. Only Martin managed to not look stunned, but he guessed the man was growing used to his personality.

Jones finally coughed and looked away, looking ashamed. "One man," he muttered, closing his eyes. "One man runs the entire Pacific division of Orion. He answers only to me, but for some time, I've been suspicious of... He runs Orion in Hawaii, Australia, New Zealand and South East Asia."

"That's a lot of responsibility for one man, Mr Jones," Martin stated. "Why give that much power to one person?"

"Because..." Jones sighed. "Because he's my brother. Thomas Jones."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** And again I have to apologise, for not posting last night! Sorry guys, I had work, and I didn't get home til 3am, at which point I collapsed into bed...

Anyways, here's the next chapter, enjoy!

And thanks again for everyone's reviews! I'll keep saying it here as well, cause there's a few people who review anonymously (including the person who was my 100th!), and I wanted to thank them as well!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

Martin hung up on Peter Jones instantly, and Danny knew why. It was to stop Jones from seeing the look of absolute relief on the FBI agent's face.

"We have a name."

"And now we have a face," one of the agents told him, typing away on the computer. Almost straight away, the face of a younger, handsomer Peter Jones appeared, though he didn't wear glasses, and his hair was brown, not grey.

"Thomas Jones, born January 28th, 1971, to Paul and Isabel Jones. Younger brother of Peter Jones, who owns Orion. Graduated from Stanford University, went straight to work for big brother's company, then a small thing out of New York, and now one of the world's powerhouses. He works out of California." The agent looked up. "Was cautioned for drink driving in his early twenties. Been cautioned for a few other things, but he's never gone to jail." The agent's eyebrows rose. "Looks like big brother got him off. Peter Jones has been looking out for Thomas his whole life."

"And letting him get away with murder," Martin reminded them. "Okay, let's pull up Thomas Jones' financials, travel records, that sort of thing."

The agent typed away, not even looking up as the doors opened and Chin and Kono walked in. Their eyes went instantly to the screen. "We have something?" the older cousin asked hopefully.

Danny nodded. "A name and a face." He shook his head. "We're one step closer."

"We have a problem."

Danny groaned as he realised he had spoken to soon. "Don't tell me that! What is it?"

The agent looked up again. "According to his travel records, Thomas Jones hasn't been to Hawaii in over a year."

"What?" Danny and Kono asked at the same time, while Martin shook his head.

"Impossible," the lead agent told them. "If he's running the Pacific branch of Orion, then he has to have been here. You can't run a business from overseas, let alone a criminal organisation."

"Besides, he's on his way here now," Chin told them, Kono nodding her agreement. "Keone remembered overhearing someone talking about how his life would be decided when Jones got here."

The agents frowned, and the one went back to typing. "No. According to all flight data, there is no Thomas Jones on his way here, from anywhere."

"Then he's using an alias," Danny told them. "What's the last travel records we have for him?"

The agent looked it up. "He flew into Auckland Airport last Sunday."

"Well, that's three days of unaccounted travel possibilities. Honolulu gets too much air traffic for us to find him before he lands. Find him at Auckland Airport, and follow him from there using facial recognition. We find out where he's travelling from, we can find his flight and get him as he steps off the plane."

The agent nodded, Martin along with him, looking thoughtful. "What about financials?"

"They don't match either," another agent said. "Nothing from the flashdrive matches payments made into Jones' account."

"They wouldn't," Danny told them. "He's too smart for that. He'll have a separate account, under an alias. Probably one of the ones he uses to travel. But until we find it, we do have enough to arrest him when he arrives. We know that whoever runs this, works for Orion. Thomas Jones works for Orion. That would be enough for 5-0."

Martin nodded, before leaning down on the computer. "Or... I have a better idea. We don't arrest him when he lands. We follow him. He leads us to McGarrett. We get McGarrett, arrest Jones, arrest everyone."

There was another moment of silence. "Or... we could do that," Danny agreed, relieved. "That could definitely work. Chin, let HPD know we're going to need them for a massive bust sometime in the very near future."

Chin nodded and backed away, getting his phone out. Danny gave Martin a thankful nod.

The agent gave a small snort. "Don't thank me yet, Detective. We still don't know when he's arriving."

"But we'll give word to customs, and have someone waiting at the airport, just in case," Danny told him. "We're going to get him, Martin. Both of them."

* * *

><p><em>McGarrett<em>.

Steve tried to mutter some sort of reply at the voice, something along the lines of 'go away' because he was pretty sure he didn't really want to wake up.

_McGarrett_.

No, the closer he came to awareness, the more he was realising he really, really did not want to wake up. The closer he came to awareness, the more his body hurt and burned. The more his shoulders cried out, the more his wrists were sore, the harder it was to focus, to breath.

_McGarrett!_

No, he was pretty sure he should just slip back into unconsciousness, where he didn't feel like his mouth was sandpaper, or his head a drum kit, or his skin soaked in sweat. Where he couldn't remember fists and wood and chairs. Chairs?

"McGarrett!"

Water hit his face, and he jerked. Sort of. Jerking was hard to do when you were dangling from the ceiling. But he opened his eyes, as far as he could open them, and groaned, licking the wetness off his face in a desperate attempt for water.

"Thought that might get your attention."

Slowly Steve managed to focus more on his surroundings and less on the fact that he was pretty sure every bone in his body was broken. He had already known he was hanging from the ceiling, the same bloody cuffs cutting into his skin. He hadn't realised his feet were still chained to the floor though, stretching him out until he could barely move around at all.

And he hadn't noticed Church standing in front of him, empty bucket in hand, bandage on his shoulder.

"Nice bandage," Steve managed to rasp out, blinking in an attempt to focus. It didn't work. He was in bad shape. "Does it... come in black?"

Church managed a humourless chuckle. "Cute." He chucked the bucket aside. "You ruined my jacket."

"Those were... so last year."

Apparently the other man didn't appreciate the fashion advice, slamming the fist of his good arm into Steve's exposed torso. Steve grunted and winced, winded even from that small blow. Not a good sign.

"You shot me, McGarrett," Church warned.

"You tortured me," Steve reminded him, blinking, trying to bring Church into focus. "I think we're even."

"You still have some questions to answer."

"You still on that?" the SEAL demanded, eyes closing, so tired, wanting, needing to just sleep. "I thought I told you. Martin knows everything... Jones arrives on the island... arrested."

A blow to his stomach made him open his eyes, and Steve tried to keep them that way, knowing he needed to know what was coming. "I know you're lying, McGarrett," Church told him. "You know absolute fuck all about my boss. But you know something. And I want to know what, even if I have to keep you alive down here for days."

He walked forward, slowly, menacingly, raising his good hand, five fingers. And Steve was beginning to realise that was half of this guy's game. Theatrics.

The problem was the other half of the game.

Steve tensed, knowing he couldn't give in, knowing this time he had to hold on. He had no other useless information, and in any case, the last time he had given up useless information, they had found out who he was.

_Danny, please, please move your ass._

Church paused, three feet away from him. "Tell me what you gave to Martin. Tell me, and I'll put you out of your misery."

The SEAL just shook his head. "No."

The criminal looked up at him, icy eyes passive. "Four."

And he kicked out, getting Steve squarely in the stomach, with enough force to push him backwards, jerking in the chains. Steve grunted as the boot hit, and the chains dug further into his skin, enough to draw blood again. He looked down, breathing desperately as Church lifted four fingers. "What did you tell Martin?"

"No."

It was the only word he could get out around his heart pounding in his throat, around the hammering in his head. He grunted as the kick came again, and he actually _felt_ something snap in his chest, felt the air leave his body, knew he couldn't take much more. It wasn't enough to kill him, but it hurt. Church was too good to kill him without meaning. Church was too good.

Steve was going to either give up down here, in this hole, or die.

Church pulled lifted up three fingers. "Tell me -."

"No," Steve interrupted, voice shaking. From fear, blood loss, he wasn't sure. All he was sure of was that he would not, could not, give in. Not this time. _Please Danny_.

He felt his wrist break this time, cried out as it snapped, groaned as it throbbed with the pain of holding his weight. _Please, please, please, Danny!_

"No. No!"

Another kick, to his other side, and Steve realised he had closed his eyes. He didn't mind, didn't care, as he struggled to breath.

"Just tell me -."

"NO!"

Steve screamed it this time, eyes snapping open, glaring down at Church. "Get it through your thick head, you fucking idiot! I'm not telling, I'm not telling you a goddamn thing!" He jerked in the chains, trying to get at the man, adrenaline replacing pain. "I won't tell you what I told Martin, I won't tell you! Because he's using it to bring you down, and that's no fucking lie! You're a dead man, Church, and you're too fucking stupid to realise it! Hear me. A dead man!"

Church stared up at him, eyes still dangerously passive. "Well. I did think this would be useless. I told Jones." The man smiled, but it ever reached his eyes. "Okay McGarrett. You won't tell me. And I accept that. I'm done. Doesn't mean you're not going to die, here, in this hole, covered in your own filth, because you messed with things beyond you. Doesn't mean I won't enjoy being the one who takes down the great Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett."

And Church thrust forward with his hand, and Steve couldn't do anything about it, as the knife he hadn't seen coming sank into his side, slammed in up to the hilt and making him shudder, eyes going wide, breath catching at the pain that blossomed. Church stepped back, eyes victorious now, dark and satisfied, hand covered in Steve's blood. He just wiped it on Steve's pants and licked his lips.

Steve took a deep breath, found he couldn't. Not a deep one. He sucked in a small one, as the world went grey, and silent. Except for Church.

"I'd guess you still have a little while," the man told him, pointing at the knife. "I'll leave that in there. It's probably more painful. And it'll help you last, at least long enough for me to get back with Jones. That way he still gets to see you. And I still get to see you die."

Church turned and left, that smirk never dying from his face. The door shut, and the lights went out, and Steve was left there, strung up in the dark, finding it harder and harder to breath, blood dribbling out of his body. His heart thudded, and he felt his head drop, accepting that he wouldn't see the sun, feel the sand, the waves, the water. Accepting that he wasn't going to make it out of here alive.

"Sorry, Danny."

He welcomed the darkness.

* * *

><p>"We have him!"<p>

Danny looked up from where he had been eyeing off the coffee machine, and across to the excited agent. "You have him?"

"We have Jones!" the man confirmed, looking at his boss as he came out of Danny's office. "He left Auckland two days ago under the name Cooper Brown. Arrived in Brisbane. Took a private plane from there, under the same name. It's due to arrive at a private landing strip at Honolulu airport in fifteen minutes."

Danny shared a look with Chin and Kono, and then with Martin. "Let's go get him."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Wow, MASSIVE reaction to last chapter... But here it is, the moment everyone's been waiting for...

Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed!

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

Honolulu International Airport was one of the busiest airports in the world, with 21 million people plus passing through it every year. That was fifty-seven thousand a day, and Chin felt like he was looking at all of them. It was almost midnight, but still the airport was packed full of haoles on holiday, desperate to get to their air conditioned rooms.

Chin shook his head from his position in the security room, studying all of the screens. Not so high-tech as he was used to now, but they covered every inch of the airport. Including Jones' private plane, taxiing to a halt on the runway as he watched.

"Jones just arrived in his big, fancy plane," Chin spoke into his radio. "He'll be heading your way in ten minutes, Danny."

"Copy that, Chin. Keep eyes on him."

"Will do," the native nodded, though only one of Martin's FBI agents could see him. He watched as the plane completely stopped. The stairs lifted out, and finally, they got their first real time look at the person behind everything.

He was smaller, in real life, than Chin had imagined he would be.

"He's getting off now," Chin told everyone, hoping this worked and Jones led them to McGarrett. "One of the guys Steve was working with, Lee, I think, he's walking out to meet him."

"He'll probably head straight to where they're holding McGarrett," Martin's voice came over. "So let's not tip him off until we bust his ass."

"You sure he'll head straight there?" Kono asked from her position outside the airport, waiting to trail Jones.

"I'm sure," Danny replied, his voice sounding off. "He has a hole in his organisation. He'll want to plug it."

"All right, he's heading through security. No one's giving him a hard time, looks like they recognise his face." Chin paused for a minute. "And he's through. Danny, you got a visual?"

* * *

><p>Danny stood up from the bench he had been sitting on, and grabbed the suitcase he was using to blend in. And he saw Jones instantly, coming out of the security check points, talking on his phone, Lee a single step behind him.<p>

Danny started moving, knowing he had to blend in as well. As the person who looked least like a Hawaiian or an FBI agent, he knew he had to be the one to keep eyes on Jones in the airport, and make sure the guy didn't pull anything sneaky.

He started walking, keeping a few paces ahead and to the right of Jones, holding his phone to his ear to cover talking. "Looks like we were right. He's heading straight for VIP parking. Kono, you ready?"

"Trunk's popped, let's do this."

Danny grinned, glancing quickly at the man responsible for dozens of deaths. "Chin, you on your way?"

"We're leaving now."

Danny made it outside only a few seconds before Jones, but stopped and pretended to look up and down, before spotting Kono's red car. He pretended to wave and smile, but kept his eyes on Jones as he walked towards his own car.

He shoved the suit case in the trunk and got in the passenger seat of Kono's car. "HPD ready to go?"

"Yeah, they're ready." Kono gave him a grin. "They'll be following our GPS as well, and staying half a mile behind."

"He's getting in the sedan," Martin told them over the radio. "And they're pulling out. Williams, Kalakaua, you're on."

Kono turned on her car and pulled out, following Jones' black sedan. Quickly they got onto one of the major highways out the central city. "Looks like he's heading to Pearl City," Kono told Danny, never letting her eyes stray from Jones' car.

"Everyone get that?" Danny asked. There was a round of confirmation, before Martin added. "Isn't that where the steel factory is?"

Kono nodded, though the question hadn't been aimed at her. "It's also where Kruger's body was found."

They followed Jones for ten minutes, and it became more and more obvious where they were heading. "Makes sense," Martin decided. "Large place, no one can hear anything in those places..."

He trailed off, but his words had sunk in. Kono's foot pushed down on the pedal, and they sped up. Not enough to overtake Jones though.

Five minutes later Kono turned her car into a side street a few hundred metres before the steel factory, before pulling over and stopping. They had a car on the factory anyway, and it would tell them when Jones arrived.

Martin pulled up in his own black rental, and then a few seconds later Chin in his SUV. Danny felt the tension rising, for everyone. Martin was about to make the biggest arrest of his career, and 5-0 was about to find out what had happened to their fearless leader.

Hopefully.

SWAT and HPD arrived just as the officer sitting outside the steel factory called it in. Jones had turned up, and for the first time since they had begun surveillance on the place, they had seen Church.

"He's there," Danny nodded, sure now. Hs heart was pounding. "We do this, and we do this now."

Martin nodded. "We go in hard, and we go in fast. Take everyone down. But Jones is mine."

They all nodded. Danny didn't really care anyway. He just strapped on his vest, made sure his gun was loaded, and got back in Kono's car. This time when she pulled out, she waited to follow SWAT, but made sure she turned her lights on. They needed to make an impression.

It was a short trip, but SWAT made up for it with enthusiasm, sprinting from the back of their van and taking up positions, yelling and shouting. And then firing at the two men on the door who tried to hold it against over twenty armed officers of the law.

SWAT stormed through the front door, guns up, still shouting. They fanned out like the professionals they were, and Danny simply followed, turning around one corner to follow the guy ahead of him. Chin followed as well, while Kono followed Martin, giving her two team mates a nod of encouragement.

Halfway through the corridors, and Danny hadn't fired a single shot. The two SWAT members in front of him had, clearing the way for him and Chin. But he needed to do something, needed to get these bastards for doing this to his team, to him, a primal urge for revenge building until he knew he couldn't help himself. So when they reached a corner, Danny told them to go straight ahead, to where they could hear gunshots. He and Chin took the turn.

They ended up in a wide corridor, and they spread across it, not talking, just knowing. It was getting warmer with every step they took, and Danny guessed the furnaces for the steel factory had to be around here somewhere. Still, he tried to ignore it as he took a narrow staircase, Chin on his heels, watching his back. He needed someone watching his front. In the end, a single step was all that saved his life.

He heard it, a tap on the concrete ground in the otherwise silent night, and paused, foot about to step off the stairs. A second later a shot ran out, and he and Chin jumped back.

"I'm guessing there's someone there," Chin surmised.

"Yeah, I guess so," Danny muttered, thinking quickly. He took off a shoe, stood up straight, and threw it, counting on the shooter's twitchy nature.

Another two shots sounded out, and Danny moved instantly, turning the corner and planting his own bullets in the man waiting in the corner. The guy fell back against the wall, looking surprised, and then slid down.

Danny picked up his shoe and slipped it on but didn't bother to check on the man. He knew he was dead.

They moved on, and came to a second crossroads. Chin nodded at the turn, indicating he would go that way, while Danny moved straight ahead, stepping carefully now, senses on full alert. A few metres later he came to a wider part of the corridor, and a door at the end. Danny slowed down, stepping quietly as he saw the lights beneath the door, and the shadow passing over it, muffled voices. He inched towards the door, reached out for the handle, heart thudding in his chest.

"This is your fault, you son of a bitch!"

The sharp cry made Danny's stomach flip, and he jerked the door open.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. Sweat and blood, and who knew what else, but it was enough to make him gag and his eyes to water. He turned away without thought, covering his nose. And that was when the second thing hit him.

He went falling to the ground, but managed to keep a hold on his gun as he looked up at his attacker, up at a mad face with icy blue eyes. And behind those blue eyes, a hard first, slamming into Danny's face.

He managed to block the second fist, getting angry now. He slammed the heel of his palm into the guy's face. The man fell back, clutching his nose, and Danny stumbled to his feet, trying to bring his gun and aim around to his attacker.

He was too slow, the man too enraged. Danny was tackled to the ground once more, and this time he did lose his gun, his right arm also losing some feeling as his elbow slammed into the concrete ground. The man punched him in the gut twice, before returning his attention back to Danny's face. The detective protected his head with his arms, and managed to get enough leverage to push the guy off with his feet.

The attacker went backwards, and Danny scuttled across the ground to his gun, hurrying when he heard the man coming at him once more.

He reached his gun, and spun on the ground. "5-0, freeze!"

But the man didn't listen to him, just pulled a blood soaked knife and rushed at him, completely out of his mind.

Danny didn't think, just brought his gun around, aiming point blank at the man's chest. The two shots rang in his ears, and blood spattered over his face, the attacker was that close, but the guy stopped, looking stunned, before slowly dropping his knife, and then collapsing.

Taking a deep breath, Danny moved backwards a foot, keeping his weapon out and trained on the attacker as he stood up. But the man didn't move, most likely dead, and Danny turned around, wondering what had been so important about the room.

What he saw, he knew he would never forget.

He holstered his gun, more out of habit then anything, and then walked towards the doors, unable to believe, not wanting to believe what he was seeing. His partner... but not. His partner, soaked in blood, bruised and purple, cuts all over him, hanging there, just dangling, feet chained to a floor covered in blood and vomit and mess, blood-soaked head between his shoulders.

Danny remembered to breath, and then suddenly found his brain again. He rushed forward, nearly slipping in the muck, instantly trying to take the pressure off Steve's wrists and shoulders, sure that any number of bones were broken. He tried to lift his partner up, tried to get a hold, but it was like trying to hold onto an ice cube. Not that Steve was cold. No, he was hot. Too hot.

"Jesus," Danny whispered, finding his voice. "CHIN!"

The scream echoed around the room, but McGarrett didn't even twitch. Danny felt his heart clenching, felt the panic rising, his grip slipping. "CHIN! KONO! ANYONE! I NEED HELP IN HERE! CHIN!"

Danny took a deep breath, tried to calm himself, couldn't. He turned his face towards Steve. "Hang in there, Steve, we're here." God, he didn't even know if Steve was breathing. "CHIN!"

Rushing feet alerted him to someone's presence, and then he heard Chin stumble. And not just physically.

"We need to get him down, we need to help him, I can't see him breathing," Danny managed to get out. "We just need to get him down, he's hurt bad, Chin."

Chin appeared by his side, looking only half as lost as Danny felt. Danny readjusted his grip, felt blood bubble over his arm. "We need to get him down now!"

Chin nodded, keeping a straight head, following something on the ceiling, and then down the wall. He raced over to the side, disappearing from Danny's sight. But seconds later there was a creaking sound, and Steve grew heavier in Danny's arms.

More rushing feet appeared; more than one set backed away, and Danny could hear vomiting somewhere in the back of his mind. But other sets of feet appeared beside him, and suddenly Martin was there, taking Steve's weight as well, looking pale and stunned, but lowering the SEAL gently down to drape across his knees.

"We need keys," Danny mumbled, unable to remember why Martin being there was so surprising. "That guy I killed, he has to have... We need pressure, he's been stabbed." Blood bubbling, that meant being stabbed. He knelt down in McGarrett's mess, but refused to let his partner touch it himself. "We need EMTs, we need..." He couldn't remember what they needed.

Kono suddenly appeared as well, shaking hands making the keys rattle. But as Steve's hands fell down to land on the chest – cuts and bruises and burns, and he recognised those two small marks a few centimetres apart – she managed to get the right key in the hole. A second later Steve's feet were free too, and Danny and Martin stood up together, moving Steve out of the room, into the corridor, Kono holding his head.

Danny remembered to breathe again as they laid Steve on the floor. "Jesus, he's... Where are the fucking EMTs!"

Martin ignored the shout in his ear as he bent over to apply pressure on the wound in Steve's side. Danny let him do it, leaning over his partner. "Steve, can you hear me?" No response and Danny felt his stomach clenching. "He's bad," he told the others, trying not to look at his friend's tortured body again, looking up at Kono kneeling by Steve's head instead. "He's not... He won't..."

"He's alive," Martin told him, checking for a pulse. "Barely. But he's alive."

The EMTs arrived just then, and Chin pulled Danny away as they got to work. Danny let himself be stood up and backed away, shaking, sure the world was being drowned out. Within minutes they had Steve on a backboard and were whisking him away, one shouting into his radio to have surgery ready.

And Danny just watched them go, trying to breath, his team around him, all looking and feeling lost. Martin and a few of his agents stayed, watching them closely. Danny didn't even notice. He just pulled out of Chin's grip, turned to the side listlessly, leaned his hands against the wall, and brought up everything he had eaten in the last day, that image of his partner, swinging like a side of meat, burned into his skull.

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><p>Hope everyone enjoys episode 2 tonight! So jealous right now...<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** Wow, that was a marathon review answering session! You guys are amazing!

And here's the next chapter, as promised! Have fun...

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

Martin ended up being the one to drive them to the hospital, telling them that none of them were fit to be behind a wheel.

"What about Jones?" Danny asked, finally remembering why else they had been there. Why Steve had been there.

Martin looked him in the eyes, and for the first time, Danny swore he saw a flicker of guilt behind the agent's mask. "He'll still be in lock-up in the morning. We have enough to put him away for life. He's not going anywhere."

Besides the siren, the drive was silent, each team member trying to deal with the sight of their boss... there were no words to describe it. Beside him, Kono's hands were shaking, and Danny watched with distracting fascination as she tried to get them to still, holding onto them, twitching every now and then. If he could focus on that, he might be able to ignore his own shaking hands.

The hospital loomed above them, lit brilliantly in the night. Martin skidded to a halt in the area reserved for emergency vehicles and just flashed his badge in the face of the man who came at them angrily, before striding on. Danny knew the car would likely get towed anyway, but he didn't care. He just needed to find out what had happened to his partner.

The emergency room was half full, but every single person waiting for care went silent as they walked in, looked up at them and started muttering as they headed for the desk.

"We're here for Steve McGarrett," Danny explained quickly. "He was brought in..."

He trailed off as the nurse went pale. She knew who he was talking about. "Mr. McGarrett's been taken straight up to surgery," she told them. "But I'll get a doctor to come see you as soon as possible. In the meantime you can wait in the family room... and you might like to change."

She looked down at his shirt, and Danny followed her gaze, feeling the nausea rising as he realised his once blue shirt was now red. Soaked in Steve's blood, like his hands. Danny turned and left, unable to think beside the need to get away from the stares of everyone. He headed straight for the bathroom.

The light was less bright in there, for which he was thankful. He headed straight for the mirror and finally, for the first time since he had entered the steel factory, took a deep breath.

And then another. And another, fast, and he knew he was inches from a panic attack. He leaned down on the sink, just taking deep breaths, controlling his breathing, before looking up again. He looked terrible. Pale, shadows under his eyes, blood smeared across one cheek. There was a bruise on his cheek as well, a cut above his eye, but it hadn't bled a lot.

He turned on the taps and scrubbed his hands clean of blood, spending five or six minutes on it, making sure he got every trace of blood off his skin, out of his nails. And he tried to ignore the fact that it was Steve's blood circling the drain. Tried to ignore the potential metaphors.

The door opened suddenly, and Danny jumped, scowling at Martin as he walked in, carrying something in his hands. He ignored the sink, and the shaking hands, and tossed the something on the bench. "I keep a spare shirt in the car," Martin told him. "Thought you might like it."

Danny nodded at the man's own blood stained shirt. "Looks like you need it yourself."

"Not as much as you do."

Danny nodded his thanks and washed his face, scrubbing the blood off it. Martin just stared at him, before making a noise and leaning against a cubicle wall. "He's strong."

"What?" Danny demanded, getting to work on the buttons of his ruined shirt.

"McGarrett. He's strong. If anyone can make it through... through that, he can."

Danny gave a snort. "Yeah. If anyone can." His finger slipped on the last button, breaking it instead. Not that it mattered. He pulled it off and tossed it aside. "I don't know if anyone_ can_ make it through what they did to him."

He let his head hang and took a few more deep breaths. "I've been a cop a long time," he told the agent. "And I've never seen... anything like that."

Martin didn't answer for a moment. "Unfortunately I have. Men who won't give up, no matter what."

"And what happened to them? To those men who wouldn't give up." Danny knew, he _knew_, that Steve hadn't given up.

Martin didn't answer, didn't even meet his eyes. "Great," Danny sighed. "So because he's a stubborn son of a bitch, he's..." He closed his eyes and shook his head, before realising that closing his eyes was the wrong move, and grabbing the loaned shirt instead. But he didn't put it on, just held it for a moment.

"How do you forget what you saw?" he asked Martin before he could stop himself. He was shocked he had even asked it of this man who had not only put his partner in danger, but who was a complete stranger. But he needed advice, he needed help, he needed to cope, and manage, and Martin knew what that was like. Danny knew he did.

Martin paused before shaking his head, and deciding to be honest. "You don't. But eventually you don't see it every time you close your eyes."

Danny looked at the mirror, swallowing. "I can't... I can't get the smell out of my nose."

Martin nodded, and grabbed the door handle, ready to leave. "Neither can I."

And he left the bathroom. Danny sighed and leaned over the sink again. But he knew he couldn't hide in there forever. He put the shirt on. It was a little long for him, a little tight across the shoulders, but it would do. He washed his face once more, and then left, without looking at the mirror again.

Chin was holding onto Kono when he reached the family room, and for a moment Danny felt bad that he had been hiding when his team no doubt felt the same as him. And if he was struggling, how was Kono, a rookie, a decent person, dealing with this.

They pulled apart as Danny sat down, though Chin kept a hold of his cousin's hand, supporting her without supporting her. And silently, they began the long wait.

* * *

><p>Danny wasn't sure how many hours had passed since they had arrived. He knew Kono had fallen asleep about the time the sun had risen, and he had been on three coffee runs; Chin another two. And still the doctor hadn't arrived to talk to them. Danny didn't know whether to take that as a good sign or not.<p>

Martin had left and come back, changed but not looking refreshed.

"Jones admitted everything," he told them, sitting down, rubbing his eyes. "We've got him."

"You don't look happy about it," Chin realised.

Martin shrugged and changed the subject. "Heard from the doctor yet?"

"Not yet," Danny told him. "What about his accomplices? Church, and Lee, and all them."

Martin looked at him with wide eyes. "Didn't you know, Williams? That guy you shot, that was Church."

Danny felt a bit of surprise, before remembering the face that had attacked him. "Oh." It had been. "I was a little distracted."

Suddenly a man appeared at the door to the room, wearing scrubs and looking tired. "Family of McGarrett?" he asked, looking unsure.

"As close as you're going to get," Chin told him, waking up Kono. They all stood up, but the doctor shook his head.

"Please, sit down," he told them, making Danny worry. Sitting meant bad news.

"Is he..."

The doctor shook his head. "He made it through surgery," he told them, not really making them feel any better. "Please sit down."

They did as asked, and the doctor sat with them. "I'm Dr Young. I'll be Commander McGarrett's doctor while he's here."

Danny nodded. "And?" He just wanted the man to get to the point. Young seemed to pick that up, because he sighed.

"Like I told you, he made it through surgery. Just. I don't know how. What was done to him..." For a minute the man looked angry, but he quickly shook it off. "I'm going to be completely honest with you," he told them, looking each of them in the eye. "I don't know if he'll make it past today."

"You don't know?" Danny demanded, stomach flipping.

"No, I don't. It all depends..." Young paused and shook his head. "Let me start from the beginning. When he was brought in, the Commander had gone into cardiac arrest in the ambulance, but we managed to get him back. From there, it didn't get much better. Thankfully the knife missed anything vital, but he had lost a lot of blood. He has severe bruising to most of his internal organs. He has a fractured ankle, broken fingers, a broken wrist and a dislocated shoulder. A cracked cheekbone and a fractured skull, along with some swelling to the brain. He has broken ribs, one of which pierced a lung. He has been electrocuted and stabbed. He had a worrying amount of water in his lungs. He is also suffering from severe dehydration, heat exhaustion and an infection."

A heavy silence followed the doctor's words, and he nodded as they all realised the severity of Steve's situation.

"I know you all know this, but Commander McGarrett is strong. One of the strongest men I've ever worked on. We're pushing fluids, bloods and antibiotics into him. We've got him intubated, but that's mostly to just help him heal. If he can keep fighting, and if he makes it through today, then I'm hopeful he'll make it the rest of the way too."

Danny took a deep breath and sat back, rubbing his eyes. The man was hopeful. "Where is he now?" the detective asked.

"He's being taken up to ICU," Young told him, putting a hand up to forestall the inevitable question. "And you may see him in fifteen minutes, one at a time, for five minutes each. The nurses need to be able to monitor him closely, and you all need to get some rest yourselves."

Young paused for another minute, waiting to see if they had any more questions. When they didn't, he nodded and stood. "I'll let you know if anything changes."

The doctor left, and Kono turned to Danny. "You should go first."

But Danny shook his head. "No. You guys go first. I'm going to call the governor." And Grace, he needed to tell her about her Uncle Steve. And he needed to call Mary. God, what did he tell them?

Kono and Chin nodded, and began the walk up to ICU, giving him a last sad look as they walked out the door. Danny watched them go before leaning his elbows on his knees and his head on his elbows. Just for a second. Just for a second he needed to rest and _manage_ everything in his head.

"I guess I'll go back to the hotel."

Danny jumped; he had forgotten about Martin. "Give a guy a heart attack next time!" he snapped, standing up, anger flooding him, finally. "This is your fault, you know. I told you, I told you, that sending Steve undercover was a bad idea! And now he might die! But no, the pair of you, bunch of fucking cowboys, thought you knew better, even though you had the pictures of what that man does to undercover agents! But you sent him in, you..."

Danny trailed off. It had taken him a minute to realise Martin was nodding. "I know," the agent told him when he was sure Danny had stopped. "We shouldn't have sent him in. But without him, we wouldn't have brought down Jones." He put a hand up to stop Danny from butting in. "Investigating would still have taken too long, and people would have died while we tried to work on Jones from the outside. But..." and he gave a big sigh. "In the end, it's me who has to decide if I can justify it. If I can live with it. My decision, my fault McGarrett's here. I know that. But I don't know that I would make a different choice if I did it over again."

Danny watched him, a little speechless at the guy's ability to compartmentalise. A little worried about it, too, if he was being honest. But it was all a huge mess, of potentialities, of maybes, of what if's. It was a bad choice or a worse choice, but Danny did not know which one would be the worse. And in the end, it had been Steve's decision; it wasn't like Danny had ever been able to talk him out of anything before.

Martin stood up to leave, and made it to the door before Danny found his voice.

"Can... could you live with it?" he asked, making the agent stop. "If Steve dies, can you live with knowing he gave his life for potential victims?" Could Danny? When it came down to it, what would he have really done, in Martin's position?

Martin shook his head. "Hopefully I won't have to. I'll see you later, Detective."

Danny didn't want to know.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** p.s. I plan on being a doctor some day, but it ain't gonna be in medicine...


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** Sorry I haven't replied to everyone's reviews, but I thought you would rather a chapter than a reply, and I only have time to do one :( I'm in the library trying to write a chapter of my thesis (nearly done too) and if my friend knew I was doing this instead of evidence of trade and resource exploitation at Askut, she would look at me with a very disappointed face...

Second last chapter!

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><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

After hanging up on the governor, Danny paused, wondering how to go about the next call he had to make. He would tell Grace when he saw her next, but Mary had to know. Truth be told, he should have called her the night before. Or when Steve had gone missing in the first place.

But if he told her she would want to get on the next flight out here. And Steve had sent her away to protect her. But she had to know. If Steve died...

Danny sighed and just dialled the number he had hoped he would never have to use.

Mary picked up on the fourth ring, her voice confused and anxious. "Hello?"

"Hi, Mary. It's Danny. Danny Williams, Steve's partner."

She paused, and he could feel the sudden tension through the phone. "Something's happened, hasn't it?"

Danny cleared his throat. "Ye... Uh, Yeah. It's Steve. He's in the hospital."

"How bad?" she demanded, her voice tight.

The detective just pinched the bridge of his nose, hating this conversation already. "It's uh, pretty bad."

He heard her stand up and start grabbing things. "I'm getting on the next flight."

"No," Danny told her before he could stop himself, standing up to pace, knowing he was right. "Mary, don't do that. Please, don't."

"Why the hell not?" she demanded angrily. "My brother's in the hospital... What if he dies, Danny? What if he dies, and I'm not there?"

"Well, at the moment it's not going to matter," Danny snapped back with frustration. "He's unconscious, the doctor has him in a medically induced coma, so even if you were here, he wouldn't know. Besides, if he's going to die, it'll be before you get here."

He couldn't believe he had just said that. Mary didn't answer, but he could sense the anxiety through the phone, and Danny sighed. "Sorry, I... Look, the doctor said if he makes it through today, then he should be fine." Okay, so those hadn't been the doctor's exact words. "Besides, this is Steve. He'll make it."

"I want to see my brother, Danny," she told him, her voice going quiet.

"And you brother wants to keep you safe, Mary," he reminded her. "The people who killed your parents are still out there. Steve will be fine, I'll look after him. But if you get hurt because he couldn't protect you, he will never forgive himself."

There was another long silence, and finally he heard Mary collapse into a chair. "Fine. Okay. I hate this, but okay. Just... watch his back, Danny. And make sure he doesn't go and do anything stupid like die on me."

"I'll do my best, Mary. I'll let you know if anything changes."

"Just remember one thing, Danny. When my father was killed, I hadn't seen him in years. I don't want the same thing to happen to Steve."

And she hung up on him, without saying goodbye. Danny didn't blame her. That family had deep issues. And he had just promised to make sure issue number one didn't get himself killed.

Great.

* * *

><p>Kono was waiting outside when Danny finally made it to ICU. She looked up as he approached, and shook her head. "He looks terrible," she told him instantly.<p>

"He'll make it," the detective answered without thinking. "It's Steve. He'll make it."

"You really believe that?" she asked as Chin walked out of the room, looking tired. "After what you saw, you really, completely believe that?"

Danny thought about it this time, before answering, thinking back to his conversation with Mary. He was afraid, definitely. But... "Yeah. I do." And he walked inside the room.

And stopped instantly.

'He looks terrible' didn't even begin to cover it. Someone had cleaned him up, but it just made the stark contrast between the paleness and the colourful bruises all the more obvious. And he wasn't even breathing on his own, a tube shoved down his throat. Bandages all over his torso, a cast on his wrist. A few IV lines ran into his other hand, beneath the bandage around the cuts where the cuffs had rubbed through the skin. One eye was swollen shut, his cheek puffy, his lips cut.

Danny took a deep, shuddering breath, and moved forward until he was standing beside Steve. There wasn't a chair provided, but Danny leaned over instead, gripping Steve's arm, gently. "Hey there, partner. You're not looking so good."

The detective sighed, and shook his head. "Just... hurry and get better. I promised Kono you would, so if you break that promise, I'm making you answer to her. Besides, we need you at work."

He paused, watching for any sign Steve could hear anything. There was nothing. No movement, no flicker, just the sound of the ventilator and the beeps of the monitors. Danny shook his head. "Seriously, Steve? You're super SEAL, no matter how many times you get knocked down, you always get back up. I bet you were thinking about that when you took this job. Cause you're Steven 'Can't Knock Me Down' McGarrett. Stupid son of a... See, even you couldn't pull off stupid! What were you thinking? I can answer that, you weren't! You just had to go and throw yourself under a bus for some kid you'd only known for two weeks. Bet he's lost his dad..."

He gave a sigh, and leaned down on the bed railings. "That came out wrong. Sorry. I'm trying to yell at you, and all I, uh, keep remembering is you swinging there, and that smell... Doesn't work too well."

He looked at his partner's face, and nodded. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you do this. I'm meant to have your back. I know you're going to tell me this isn't my fault, that I couldn't have stopped you. But I was the one who wasn't watching out for you. I was at home, trying to sleep, while you were fighting for your life." He swallowed again. "And now you need to get better, so I can make up for that in the future. Remember, we apologise for getting our partners shot."

Danny sighed and let go, giving Steve one last look before heading out the door. But he would be back. And so would Steve.

* * *

><p>They kept Steve in a medically induced coma for five days, while they kept him in ICU, allowing his lungs, heart and brain time to heal. And frustratingly, Danny only got short visits two or three times a day. What with the mess to clear up after the collapse of Jones' criminal network, it was probably a good thing the nurses stubbornly refused to let him stay, but Danny was relieved when they finally moved Steve to a ward. It meant he could stay longer, and because HPD was doing a fine job of sweeping up the remnants of Jones' crew, he did just that.<p>

Three days after that, they took the tube out of Steve's lungs and replaced it with a face mask, and Danny was getting a little worried when that didn't even make him twitch. Young seemed to notice his anxiety.

"This is normal," he told the detective as he did some final checks. "He went through a great deal, and his body needs to do a lot of healing. It does that better when he's asleep. But it's a miracle he's made it out of surgery and through that first day. I'd say that's a good sign of Commander McGarrett's stubbornness to stay here."

Danny nodded, before asking the question that had been burning in his brain since that first day in ICU. "How far can he... Will he be able to go back to work?"

Young paused, and then looked away, thinking, putting Steve's chart away. "I'm not going to promise anything, Detective," the doctor told him gravely. "But he didn't suffer any major breaks. He might have a bit of tenderness in his left arm and hand, from all the breaks there, but physically, I can't see any issues with him regaining full mobility with the right rehab. It'll be his mind that will be the major hurdle. But with his history, my guess is he'll be able to work through that, too."

He turned to go, but something in Young's last sentence caught Danny's attention. He stood up, frowning. "What do you mean, with his history?"

Young paused, sighed, and turned. "I thought you might know. When I was looking at his x-rays, I noticed... certain markers. Evidence of... this, happening before."

"This?" Danny demanded. "You mean torture."

"Yes," Young told him simply. "A few years ago now, but yes."

Danny sat back down in the chair, and after a moment the doctor left. Danny just shook his head. "You my friend, are... crazy. Absolute bat shit crazy." But he knew he was never going to ask about it.

He leaned back, thinking about bringing Grace around. She had been bugging him about seeing her Uncle Steve. A noise at the door distracted him. Chin and Kono.

The older cousin nodded at Steve. "When did they take the tube out?"

"About ten minutes ago," Danny told them, sitting up straighter. "You just missed all the fun." And secrets. But if Steve didn't want any of them to know, Danny wasn't going to blab like a certain doctor.

"Has he woken up at all?" Kono asked, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed.

"Not even close," Danny shook his head. "But Young says that's a good thing, so..." He trailed off and shrugged, before yawning.

"Danny, you should get some rest," Chin told him.

"I'm sitting down," Danny defended.

"Some real sleep,' Chin clarified. "Else you're going to end up in a hospital bed yourself."

"Nah, I'm good. But I could use some coffee. Anyone else?" Danny asked as he stood up. And that was when he saw it. Steve's eyes moving beneath his closed lids.

Danny was leaning over him a second. "Steve, can you hear me?" A finger twitch this time, a slight shift. By then Chin and Kono were all leaning over as well. "Steve, come on, open your eyes for us. Steve?"

The lids flickered, the eyes moving about restlessly, in search of something. Anything. Any danger, Danny realised.

"Steve, it's okay, you're in hospital. Just back up for a minute, guys," Danny told Chin and Kono, stepping back himself, giving Steve room. "It's okay babe, we've got you."

The eyes stopped moving, and the lids slowly closed and Steve was back asleep.

The three conscious team mates collectively leaned back and took deep breaths. Danny sat back down in his seat, feeling exhausted. Steve was getting better, that was for sure. But he was just beginning to realise how long the road might actually be.

* * *

><p>Just a short one... It was originally going to be longer, but I decided to svae the rest for tomorrow night... the final post... wow, that snuck up on me!<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** Well, here we are. The final chapter... I can't believe it, this story has been insane. So much fun to write, and then an avalanche of reviews, it was absolutely nuts and wonderful. So thanks to everyone who reviewed, and two special shout-outs - Brutus, neharika, my thesis buddies... I swear I'm not posting this while you're working on your own theses... :/

For all those who wanted more, you will get it - my muse has been in overdrive with H50 ideas lately, so more will be coming! However, my muse has been incarcerated for the next month for threatening my thesis... oh don't worry, she's still yelling at me and threatening to sic Steve on me... but I'm doing my best to ignore her so I can concentrate on my thesis... So look for more stories in early November!

Also, did anyone else hear the news? James Caan is going to guest star on H50 - how sweet is that!

And without further ado... the final chapter.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

He didn't want to be in the dark. The dark was bad. The dark was heat, and smell, and pain. No, he really didn't want to be in the dark.

But he couldn't move. Tied down. Lying down. That was different. But he didn't care, he didn't want to know what they had planned this time. Because whatever it was, it had to be bad. But he couldn't move, couldn't get out, couldn't escape, though he was struggling.

"Easy Steve."

The voice broke through the darkness, but he recognised it. He recognised it. Danny. Danny had finally come.

"Yeah, babe, I'm here. Just open your eyes Steve."

Open his eyes? Weren't they open already?

"Uh, no. No, they're not open."

Oh. Since when had Danny been psychic? Well, he could open his eyes. He could do that. He could. Or he tried, anyway. His eyes seemed suddenly heavy. But they slowly flickered open to bright lights, and a blurry face looming over him.

He flinched before he could help himself, and the face flew back, letting Steve scan the rest of the room, searching out anyone, everyone.

"Easy, Steve, sorry. You're in the hospital." Danny sounded exasperated. Like he had been through all this before. Had he? Steve was getting a strange sense of déjà vu.

He looked back at the blurry face, trying to make sense of it, only to find that the blurry face was Danny himself. The bright lights morphed into a hospital room, and he blinked. "Hospital?"

His words sounded garbled, and he realised it was because he had an oxygen mask on, could feel the soft breeze of it on his face. He also knew he should be feeling some pain, could remember that so clearly, but all he felt was fuzzy, and light, and full of morphine.

"Yeah, hospital," Danny answered calmly. "Have been for nearly two weeks. Not that you seem to be remembering any of it."

"Two weeks?" he demanded, unable to believe it. "What happened?"

Danny's face went blank for a moment, and he sat down. "What happened? We came and we got you out of there."

"Oh." Steve closed his eyes for a minute, before adding quietly, "I don't remember."

"You were pretty out it," Danny told him tiredly. "What's the last thing you do remember?"

Pain in his side, heat, exhaustion. "Church stabbed me," Steve whispered, opening his eyes. "And then he left. What happened?"

"Didn't I just answer that? Pretty sure I just answered that," Danny reminded him, and Steve was too tired to stop him speaking. "I know you've forgotten everything I told you every time you wake up, but this is the first time you've forgotten it without falling asleep first."

Steve decided rolling his eyes was a bad move with his head feeling all light and fuzzy, so he settled for a derisive tone that was a little lost in translation through the oxygen mask. "I meant with the case, Danny."

"Oh. Well, thanks to the USB and the info you stole, we found out who Jones was. Followed him when he arrived. He led us to you, we stormed the place. Martin arrested Jones, and uh, I killed Church. HPD's just finishing rounding up the rest of them."

Steve's eyebrows rose. "You killed Church?"

"Yeah, he tried to kill me. Guess I showed him, huh?" Danny gave a small smile, but even drugged full of painkillers, Steve could tell he didn't feel any amusement. "Anyway, you should get some more rest. Doc Young says you're getting there, but you've got a long way to go."

More rest sounded good. But there were things he wanted to know first. "How bad?" His eyes wanted to close, but he needed to know. He looked up at his friend, who wasn't answering. "How bad?"

"You should really try to rest, Steve."

No answer was not a good answer. "So, pretty bad."

Danny sighed and closed his eyes, nodding. "Yeah. Pretty bad. But the doctors all say you're doing well, and you should make a full recovery."

Steve nodded, and let his eyes slide closed. At least this time the darkness didn't seem so bad.

* * *

><p>Kono watched from the door as Steve drifted off to sleep again, and Danny sat down in the chair, head in his hands, looking absolutely exhausted.<p>

"How many times is that now?" she asked, making Danny look up in surprise.

"Hey, Kono," he greeted softly. "Um, that would be number four. And every time it's the same questions. What happened and how bad. At least this time he asked about the case as well. Something new."

Kono walked further into the room, and handed a coffee over to Danny. And not hospital coffee. Real coffee. Danny looked like he would kiss her. "You are a lifesaver."

"You could always go home, you know," Kono suggested, taking a seat.

"Yeah, I could." Danny took a mouthful of his coffee, before deciding Kono deserved a better answer. "I don't want to. You saw what happened when he woke up when I'd ducked out to get a coffee. Nearly popped his stitches."

Kono watched him for a second. "You could let Chin or I watch his back for an hour or two. Just while you got some sleep."

"Yeah, I could do that too."

Kono let it go. "Have the doctors said anything about when he might start remembering?"

"I don't know," Danny muttered, leaning back. "There was some long explanation about head trauma and short term memory, but the neurologist Young brought in seems to think it'll fix itself in the end. Just like everything else. He just needs time."

The rookie nodded. "Well, time he has. He's not going anywhere, and neither are we. We'll get him through this."

Danny smiled at her. "And here I thought I was meant to be the one with the wise words."

"Danny, I don't think anything you've ever said could be classed as wise."

* * *

><p>In the end, Steve was actually thankful that Church and his men had hit him in the head a few too many times. He remembered some things. Church stabbing him. The taser. But most of it was a blur, and the neurologist, Dr Cheng, didn't think that would ever change. He was glad. He had enough bad memories as it was.<p>

He knew Danny was getting sick of being asked the same questions though, and a few days after he had been able to stay awake for more than ten minutes, he had given Mary a call and spoken to her for half an hour, only to find out later that he had called her a few hours previously. He couldn't remember that first conversation, though he imagined it had gone a lot like the second, with questions of how he was, and when could she come visit, and why did he have to put himself in these positions.

Martin came to visit him, the day before he took Jones back to the mainland. Steve had been sleeping, but the door closing had woken him up, and he had looked around, with some panic. Martin had winced.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I can come back."

"I'm awake now," Steve told him, taking as deep a breath as he could, sitting up, trying not to grimace as he pulled on his ribs. "Besides, my guess is this'll be a short visit."

"I just came to -."

"Forget about it."

Martin looked up at Steve's quick interruption. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

Steve cocked an eyebrow. "Don't I? So you weren't about to apologise?"

Martin scowled at him. "Well, obviously. But if you'd just let me -."

"No," Steve interrupted again. "Not your fault. Not my fault. Neither of us could have predicted what happened. It just did. If I can live with it, then so can you."

Martin studied him for a minute. "Can you live with it?"

Steve studied him right back, glad he was so lucid for this. The morphine tended to really kick his butt. "Can you?"

Martin gave a small, unamused chuckle. "Fine. I guess we'll leave it at that then." The man stood up and straightened his jacket. "Oh, but if you ever get sick of playing cop on these islands, give me a call. I owe you. And that, you're not allowed to deny."

He had left before Steve could even try, so the SEAL just leaned back in bed and flicked on the television with his good arm, giving his stiff and sore body a small stretch.

He was just thankful he was a quick healer. Always had been. And with Danny popping in every day and staying for hours, it was easy to forget the tingles and niggles of his repairing body. It was easy to ignore the flashes of memory, the shadows that sometimes darted across the edge of his eye.

Even the nights weren't too bad. He had nightmares, and everyone knew it. But they understood. They all knew what he had been through, even better than he did, what with his memory problem. But he could deal with what had happened. He had done it for a reason. He had done it to save someone's life, someone who would have died for things that he himself had done. And in the end, the pain was just a memory. They hadn't mutilated him, hadn't hurt him beyond recovery, hadn't destroyed him, hadn't broken him.

It didn't even matter that Steve knew, without hesitation, that Church would have broken him if he had been more patient, had had more time. Because it hadn't happened.

He also knew Danny was worried about that, about the way he could accept what had happened so easily. But they didn't talk about it, just spent their days playing cards, or watching TV, at least, when Steve started remembering everything Danny told him about the case.

About how Mary had been seconds away from flying out here. About how Danny had thought she would anyway, even after telling him she wouldn't.

About how Thomas Jones had begged for a deal when it had become clear his brother wouldn't be providing any fancy Harvard lawyers.

About how Jimmy Keone was in protective custody, and had taken that deal Jones was begging for.

About how Danny had floored Martin. Now that, Steve wished he could have seen. It made him laugh, except then his ribs had protested, and he had had to stop, while Danny hovered over him protectively.

The man was worse than a mother hen. Steve wasn't sure what drove him – like he said, they didn't talk – but it began to get very irritating at about day one. Though the whole hospital thing drove him stir crazy. He had always hated being injured, hated lying about for days on end, waiting for his body to be ready to move. Even when he was the first to admit that it wasn't.

But it would be. He was getting there, and soon enough he would be back home, sitting on the beach behind his house, enjoying the fresh air, and the smell of Hawaii, not the dank, disgusting smell of the hole he had spent a day inside.

But he tried not to think about that. Tried to ignore the sensations, the memories, the dreams and nightmares. Tried not to wake up sweating and gasping for air with Church's smug face and cold eyes still burning in his retinas.

And as time went by, he even managed to start succeeding.

* * *

><p>Danny had always thought Steve would be the kind who could not handle sitting in a hospital bed for days on end, with nothing to do except watch television.<p>

And he wasn't, not really. He fidgeted and got a bad attitude, but he never actually asked when he could go home. And Danny thought maybe that was the trick. Because the moment he could stay awake for longer than an hour, sit up without help, and walk on his previously fractured ankle, the doctors kicked him out of there without so much as a thank you.

Of course the foot did take another two weeks, and he had to wear a boot on it for another few, but Steve left quicker than any of them had hoped, with strict instructions to attend every physical therapy session and MRI scan. He was still having problems with his memory, but not nearly so often, and besides that he was almost healed. Besides the broken wrist, and the mental scars.

Danny drove Steve home the day he got out of the hospital, taking the opportunity while he had it to drive his own car. It was a short ride, but a quiet one, with Steve just watching the scenery with a small smile on his face. It was the first real smile Danny had seen on him since he had woken up.

The house was ready for him; Danny had filled the fridge and made up the bed in the guest room downstairs, so he wouldn't have to negotiate steps. Steve, the observant Navy SEAL that he was, noticed, and thanked him, before limping out to the beach behind his house.

"Hey, you know you can't get the cast or the boot wet, right!" Danny called, rushing after him with two sodas in his hands.

"I know," Steve called back, stopping a few metres from the wave line, and sitting down in the sand. "But I can still enjoy the beach."

Danny grumbled under his breath and went to sit down beside his friend, offering a soda can. "Think you can remember how to swim?" he asked, joking. It was the only way he knew how to deal with his partner's memory problem.

Steve glared at him, and opened the can one handed. "Think I can remember enough to teach you to swim," he joked back.

"Ha ha," Danny muttered, wiping the sand off his palm. "This stuff really does get everywhere, you know."

"I think it's great," Steve told him quietly, sobering up. Danny looked at him in time to catch the shadow.

"What?"

"Nothing," Steve answered quickly, glancing at the shorter man.

"Steve, I sat in that hospital for nearly two weeks. I saw the nightmares. You can talk to me. I mean, you're gonna have to talk to a shrink anyways, but you can actually talk to me."

Steve glanced down between his legs, at the sand. "It's not me, though," he muttered. "I'm good at dealing. Compartmentalising. That's me."

Danny didn't say a word. He had picked up a few of his own tricks over the years, about how to deal with psychological trauma. And he knew one of the best tricks was silence. And apparently it worked on Steve.

"I uh... I didn't think I'd ever see the beach again," Steve told him after a few minutes. "I mean, a few other things crossed my mind, when Church stabbed me. But the beach, that's home. And I didn't think I'd see it again."

Danny nodded. "For uh, what it's worth, I'm sorry we took so long. Finding you..."

Steve was shaking his head. "You don't have anything to be sorry for, Danno," he reminded his partner. "Martin already came to see me, and tried to apologise, and I told him the same thing. It was my choice. I could have said no. I knew the risks, going into it. I knew what would happen when I gave myself up for Jimmy. And I can live with it. I'm not saying I won't have nightmares about it. But I can live with it. I did what I had to so Jimmy wouldn't be killed for something I had done. And I did what I had to, to survive."

There was something about that last sentence. After dealing with a one-word maximum partner, Danny had learned to pick up the nuances. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Steve didn't answer for a minute, just let sand run through his fingers. And then, "I told them I was a SEAL," he said quietly. "I gave up information. Church had been at me for... it felt like days. Anyway, when he brought the taser out... I needed a break. I needed a chance to rest, to manage it all, like I had been trained. But he wouldn't stop, just kept pressing the taser in." Steve's fist had gone tight around the sand, but Danny didn't stop him. He knew his partner had to get this out now. "So I told him. I told him I was a SEAL. I thought it wouldn't hurt, that it wouldn't matter. They already knew I was an undercover agent of some description. But it actually led them right to me. They found out I was head of 5-0. And then..."

He sighed and paused, shaking his head.

"And then what?" Danny asked, wondering if his friend could explain any more.

But Steve shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I can live with my decisions."

Danny just nodded, letting it go. But he really wanted to ask the same question he had asked Martin that day they had found Steve. Could he really live with it?

Suddenly Steve grabbed at the boot around his ankle and started undoing the straps. "What the hell are you doing?" Danny demanded. "Did you not hear Young say that thing has to stay on?"

Steve rolled his eyes and pulled the boot off. "Help me up. I just wanna walk in the water for a few minutes."

Danny eyed his partner, remembering the previous confession, and then sighed, pulling off his own shoes, before standing and hauling Steve up. "If Young hears about this, I was never here."

And he helped Steve hobble to the ocean, letting his partner stand in the small waves for a few minutes. And after those few minutes, Steve just smiled and lifted his head to the sun. "Thanks, Danno."

Danny refrained from rolling his eyes, or sighing, or making any sound of disapproval. And he just, for the moment, let himself enjoy the feel of the water on his feet as well.

"Any time."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I hoped you liked it - and for all those who wanted more on what happened to Steve previously... you'll just have to wait til November.

Thanks, and have a great October!


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